The Rose and the Crown: Book 1
by ScipioSmith
Summary: Cinderella weds her handsome prince and takes her place as a princess. But enemies circle around her, unable to bear the prospect of a maid upon the throne. And the false friends and flatterers who fill her ears with their poison might be even worse. Can Cinderella rise above those who think her foolish and insipid to win the hearts of an uncertain nation? Based on the 1950 movie
1. Dreams Spun From Glass

_Author's Note: This fic is a rewrite of my earlier Cinderella fanfic 'Sunset in a Gilded Frame'. That fic is now cancelled because it had some problems with pacing and the sheer number of threads going on as well some actual problems with the story (in particular the whole Kilpatrick business was badly handled by me), which this fic will hopefully resolve as it goes forward instead._

 _A lot of the material at the beginning of this fic will be taken directly from the other, because I remain quite happy with a lot of the stuff from the beginning. From the second chapter on, however, however, new material will creep in and eventually take over completely._

The Rose and the Crown, Book 1

Scipio Smith

Dreams Spun From Glass

The slipper fit.

The glass was cool on Cinderella's skin, encompassing her foot with a deceptive perfection - after all, if they were such a perfect fit then the other would not have fallen off her foot.

Or perhaps it would have? Who could tell when magic was involved?

As the Grand Duke whooped with joy in a thoroughly undignified manner, Cinderella closed her eyes and allowed herself a modest smile of happiness. After so many years, after so many humiliations, after all the indignities piled upon her shoulders, she was finally free.

She might have wept for joy, but she did not want that to be His Grace's first impression of her.

On the stairs, Cinderella could hear her dear friends, her mice and her birds, jumping up and down in happiness for her, expressing on her behalf the exultation she could feel rising within her breast. She looked up at them, her eyes sparkling as a smile spread across her face in silent thanks for all that they had done on her behalf.

The Grand Duke recovered somewhat his composure and rose to his feet, offering Cinderella an elaborate and courtly bow. "My dear. Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the palace?"

 _Should I say that I would be delighted, or that I would be honoured?_ Cinderella considered the question as she stood up, slowly and gracefully. "Thank you, your grace," she said, taking off the glass slipper and sliding her foot delicately into her black working slipper. "I would be delighted." Perhaps she should have said honoured, but she had decided to express how she felt on this one occasion.

She felt...she felt as though her heart would burst from joy. She felt as though every time she opened her mouth a glad song would surge forth. She felt as though she could dance all the way to the palace. She felt as though she had stepped out of the darkness and into the light. She felt as though a new and golden world was waiting for her.

None of this she showed to anyone, unless the most perceptive of them saw it in her eyes. Cinderella had learnt from a young age to keep her feelings, the good and the bad, concealed from all except those closest to her heart. A lady's armour was her grace and courtesy, and passion was the death of both. And if people knew how you felt then they would use your feelings against you. Her stepmother had taught her that lesson early enough. Weeping for what she had lost had only cost her more, and it was only when Cinderella had stopped showing how every fresh deprivation hurt her that the deprivations had ceased while she still had a few treasures left to hold on to.

Yet at this precise point her stepmother appeared to have lost the composure which she normally upheld so well. Her jaw was slack, her mouth agape, and her eyes wide. Anastasia and Drizella were scarcely better. They all looked poleaxed with shock. It suited them better than their usual supercilious scowling.

"Stepmother," Cinderella said, meeting Lady Tremaine's gaze without flinching. "Since this may be our last meeting for a while I would like to thank you, before I leave, for all of your many kindnesses to me."

Cinderella had little doubt that Lady Tremaine was intelligent enough to understand the hidden meaning behind her words, even if her daughters were not: _This will be our last meeting for a while because you needn't have any illusions I will show you any favour._

Anger flared in Lady Tremaine's eyes, and only her eyes, as her face recovered its usual expression: stoic as a cliff face carved from the flint. Her lips twisted into one of the faux-smiles that Cinderella knew well enough, though not so well that even she could not be taken in once in a while, if she wanted badly enough to be deceived.

"You are very gracious, Cinderella," Lady Tremaine said. "And far too kind to thank me so. I hope that you will not completely forget about us."

"I'm sure that I will not," Cinderella said quietly. She turned to the Grand Duke, and hoped he did not understand the volleys being exchanged between the two of them. "Your Grace, may I collect my things before we leave? I don't have much, so it shouldn't take me very long."

"Of course, my dear, of course," the Duke said. "Shall I send my man to help you?"

"No, your grace, I will be quite alright," Cinderella said. She sensed that her new life would not be one greatly conducive to solitude, and she felt the need for one last quiet moment. Besides, she needed to talk to the mice.

She turned away, walking quickly - she wanted to skip, but this was the next best thing - towards the stairs.

Lady Tremaine spoke just as Cinderella's foot touched the staircase. "I suppose, Cinderella that you will be wanting your dog and your horse as well."

Cinderella looked back, mind searching for the inevitable trap in her stepmother's words. "Is something wrong, stepmother?"

"Not with the hound, no," Lady Tremaine said. "But the horse does a lot of work on the estate. If you take him then I feel entitled to a little compensation."

Cinderella was still and silent for a moment. Money. Her stepmother wanted money, either that or a chance to see Cinderella lose her composure when she exclaimed that Major had never done any work on the estate because her stepmother had never been interested in managing the estate.

"Your grace," Cinderella murmured. "Would it be too much to ask the crown to pay my stepmother a consideration for my horse? It belonged to my father and has been a companion of mine since I was a girl; I wouldn't like to part with him."

"I do not see the trouble, young lady, provided the price is reasonable," the Grand Duke said.

Cinderella curtsied. "Thank you, Your Grace. You are very kind."

His Grace smiled fondly. "You are most welcome, my dear."

Cinderella walked quickly up the stairs, gesturing with one hand for the mice and the birds to follow her up into the tower. The mice climbed through their secret ways while Cinderella took the rather more rickety staircase up into her tower room. The mice clustered at her feet, offering their congratulations, but Cinderella said nothing to them at first. She walked slowly to the window, the same window from which she had looked out at the palace so many times, and leaned with her elbows on the windowsill and her chin resting in her hands.

The mice and the birds fell silent. Out of the corner of one eye Cinderella saw Jaq scurry up onto the windowsill beside her.

"Long way down," he said, looking down at the drop out of the window. He looked up at her. "Cinderelly, you alright? Something wrong?"

Cinderella looked at him. She remembered when he had first turned up in her house - not that it had been her house for many a year, not really - cold and hungry and wet. She had fed him up, clothed him because he looked so cold, and talked to him because she had no one else to talk to. She had been surprised when he started talking back, and at first she had thought she was going mad, but mostly she had been glad of the opportunity to rest her voice while exercising her ears for hearing something other than peremptory commands.

She had never imagined that he would stay with her. She had expected him to leave once his strength returned. When he had told her that he wanted to stay, in spite of Lucifer, her first thought was that she had let slip her selfish desire for company. It was only later that she understood that he had been every bit as lonely as she had.

Cinderella smiled. "I'm going to be living there, Jaq. Soon I'll be looking out of my window and seeing this house instead of that palace. And it's wonderful, or at least I think it is, but...everything is going to change."

She turned around, looking down at all the mice and then up at the gathering birds, her true and faithful friends.

"First of all: thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for everything. Not just for today, not just for last night. For everything, for all these years. I wouldn't be here without you."

"It isn't nothing, Cinderelly," Jaq said.

Cinderella's smile widened. "No, you're quite right, Jaq. It is not nothing. It's everything. But, the fact is, I don't know what this will mean to us. I don't know what the palace will be like. I want you all to come with me, of course I do, but I need you to understand that we might not be able to see each other any more. I don't know. I just...don't know."

"We'll be okay, Cinderelly," Jaq declared. "If this is goodbye, I'll take care of everybody!"

"I know you will," Cinderella said. "But let's hope it doesn't come to that. And now I'd better start getting my things together before the Grand Duke starts to worry about me."

Progress was swift, mostly because she did not have very many things to collect: a nightgown, a few ribbons for her hair, a hairbrush and comb, a pair of headscarves. She would have had her mother's dress, but that had been destroyed the night before; Cinderella had swept up the tattered remains when she got home from the ball. A few books were all that was left to go into the chest, which Cinderella closed and locked, feeling the weight of it experimentally. It was very light, to contain a life.

"I suppose I ought to congratulate you, Cinderella."

Cinderella started, turning around to see her stepmother standing in the doorway.

"Calm down, child, I'm not going to lock you in again," Lady Tremaine said, walking into the room. "What would be the point? His Grace has already seen you, attempting to keep you away from the palace now would be futile, and would only hurt me. The same could be said of pushing you out of the window." She laughed, but that gave Cinderella no comfort.

"Why are you here, Stepmother?" Cinderella asked.

"I told His Grace I was going to see if you needed my help," Lady Tremaine said. "He is a very trusting man."

"He is an honest man," Cinderella said.

"Is there a difference?" Lady Tremaine asked. "As I said, I suppose I must congratulate you, Cinderella, you have won. Though I would like to know how."

"I imagine that you would," Cinderella replied.

Lady Tremaine studied her for a moment. "I see. I imagine that you will make a good queen, though you may not like the fact."

Cinderella blinked. "I don't understand."

"Your mask is very good, but I see around the edges," Lady Tremaine said. "You want to be kind, to be good, to be sweet and even to be innocent. You want to be a font of virtue devoid of all vices, and look down on all of us who only have our good points. But you are not. I have heard you sniggering at my daughters, I have seen the way you look at them out of the corner of your eye - not often, but you do. A queen cannot be free of vice, any more than a great lady can. You will have to dissemble, lie, deceive and manipulate, and you will be good at all of those things and it will rip you apart."

Cinderella kept her face frozen; showing no sign of how much her stepmother's words riled her. "You will not ruin this, stepmother. This time, you will not take my happiness from me."

"Of course not, was that my intention?" Lady Tremaine smiled. "Shall we go down?"

"One question, please stepmother," Cinderella said.

"Go on."

"Why?" Cinderella asked.

Lady Tremaine was silent for a moment. "Because you are as I was, once, but better," she said. "I had to stop you from becoming as I am now, only better, lest I should have to fear you."

"You could have made a friend of me," Cinderella said.

Lady Tremaine's smile was cold. "You have so much to learn. Come, now, Cinderella. You don't want to keep His Grace - still less His Highness - waiting, do you?"

* * *

Prince Eugene of Armorique, Prince of Rennes and heir to the Armorican throne, paced vigorously up and down the east sitting room, his feet wearing out the crimson carpet as they scuffed and trod upon the same spots repeatedly.

"Has he returned yet?" Eugene muttered to himself.

"When he does, I'm sure that they will tell you first," Etienne Gerard said from where he sat on a settee, his back to the window and the grounds spread out beyond. He looked up from the walnut he was cracking in his hands. "Unless, of course, they decide to tell your father first, so that he can send her away discreetly if he disapproves."

Prince Eugene stopped pacing. "At this point, I doubt he would disapprove of the match if I were to pluck a beggar of the street and propose marriage to them, as long as she was fertile."

A smirk flashed across Etienne's face.

"You're finding this terribly amusing, aren't you," Eugene said archly. "I am glad that you are able to find so much jollity in my heartache."

"Your heart does not ache so much that you've gone out to search for her yourself," Etienne said, the blandness of his tone belying the sharpness of the words themselves.

Eugene waved one hand dismissively. Inwardly, he knew that he had handled this situation quite badly from the moment the clock struck twelve. First he had grabbed her by the wrist when first she went to go, a moment of wretched indecency which any gentleman would be ashamed of, but an error that he had only compounded by letting go of her moments later. Then, when she had turned to run he had been so confounded and flat-footed by the revelation that she had no idea of who he was that he had given her too much of a head start, and when he finally got around to pursuing her he had allowed himself to be entangled in a crowd of admirers. By the time he had extricated himself from them the girl had disappeared, leaving only her slipper behind.

He had been so distraught at letting her slip away without so much as a name that, having vowed despairingly to marry none but the girl who fit the slipper, he had retired to his bed sick at heart and scarcely had the strength to rise in the morning. It had taken Etienne telling him that the Grand Duke had been despatched to place the slipper on the foot of every maid of Armorique to get him up, washed, shaved and dressed, and now waiting anxiously for a happy conclusion to the Grand Duke's quest.

Eugene halted. "I should have thought of it myself," he confessed. "If I had not been too upset to think clearly-"

"If you had been thinking clearly you would have dismissed a quest as quixotic as this," Etienne said. "It took His Majesty's singular genius to devise a plan so...innovative."

"Yet if it proves successful I will not doubt him again," Eugene replied.

Etienne's eyes fixed upon his prince. "You're serious about this, aren't you? I wasn't sure at first. But this matters, doesn't it?"

Eugene looked down at him. "Does that surprise you?"

Etienne shrugged. "There have been other women. Or there were, before... None of them lasted. None of them you ever thought of marrying. None of them made you so... this. What power does this girl you've known for four hours and whose name you do not know possess to reduce the greatest rake in Gallia to a love struck schoolboy?"

"Is it so unbelievable to you that my whole life, my feelings, the very core of my being could change in a single moment?" Eugene asked.

"Yes," Etienne said.

Few men would have spoken so boldly and so plainly to a prince of the blood, but Etienne Gerard was not most men. Though he was of an age with the prince, or near enough, he looked as much as five years older, with a weathered face that contrasted sharply with the dark hair he wore in braided cadenettes down the sides of his face. He had a sharp nose and sharp dark eyes that made him look a little like a bird of prey. He had also been Eugene's companion since they were boys; racing their ponies across the fields and jumping hedgerows together, and more recently he had done Eugene a singular good service at great personal cost, and for that Eugene was willing to forgive him almost anything.

That did not, of course, mean that he was willing to forego the right of reply. "One day, Etienne, your whole life will be thrown into turmoil just as suddenly and I will smirk and chuckle at your discomfiture."

"I am sure you will, your highness," Etienne said earnestly. "But in the meantime, that particular boot remains firmly upon your foot." A wicked grin blossomed upon his face, softening all his features in the process.

"Of course it is," Eugene muttered, turning away and running one hand through his short, black hair. He bowed his head, and spoke softly. "I suppose that from the outside it must seem quite ridiculous."

"It will only seem ridiculous if His Grace returns with a harpy in tow," Etienne said. "It does seem strange. After the matches which you rejected, after the wasted effort of the noble families to court you for their daughters, after the dalliances which you abandoned, after all the arguments with His Majesty and then, suddenly, you spend a few hours with girl, you do not even learn her name, and you declare she is the only one for you. Some might call it arbitrary."

"Would you?" Eugene asked.

Etienne was silent for a moment. "Do you remember what she looks like?"

"I remember everything," Eugene said, whirling round to advance upon his old friend. "I remember the blue of her eyes which I nearly drowned in. I remember the softness of her face, I remember the fairness of her skin, I remember the shade of her lips and the plumpness of them. I remember her voice, like a whisper but at the same time not, breathless but at the same time as clear as a bell, like water trickling through a brook, like pouring syrup, like light cast upon shadow. I remember how it felt to hold her in my arms, to feel as though I had been incomplete for all these years and was at last made whole."

"You make her sound a veritable angel," Etienne said, and though Eugene expected a quip to follow, one did not come.

Eugene sighed. "And like a heavenly apparition she was gone in a moment. Yet before she left she struck me to the bone. My life will not be the same."

Etienne uncrossed his legs and climbed to his feet. "Then I hope that you find her, and that she makes you happy."

"If she can be found, I am certain that...it feels right," Eugene said. "It feels fated."

"Then if it be so, then she will be found for sure," Etienne replied. "Though all the kingdoms of the earth scheme to prevent it."

Eugene smiled. "Fortunately, the one kingdom that cares is bending its effort to make it so."

Etienne laughed. "One question, if I may?"

"Of course."

"What made you look at her in the first place?" Etienne asked. "Was the string of fate so strong that you could sense it from across the ballroom? All those women, presenting themselves to you, you couldn't even pretend to care. Why her? What made you go over to her?"

"She wasn't looking at me," Eugene said.

Etienne blinked. "Truly? That is the reason?"

Eugene nodded. He was used to women looking at him. He was, if he said so himself, a fine figure of a man, and a prince and the heir to the throne what was more, and so he was used to women desiring something about him, whether it was his looks or his potential power and status. But this girl, she had not even glanced his way. Instead she had turned on the spot at the back of the room, admiring the opulence of the palace as though she had never seen anything like it. She had not come to claim him as her prize, indeed she had turned out to have no idea who he was, and that had drawn him to her. And what he had found once she drew him in had bound him to her with chains that, though invisible, were nonetheless as strong as steel.

"There is not another like her Gallia or beyond," Eugene declared. "I know it for a certainty."

Etienne might have had something to say by way of a reply, but at that precise moment they both heard the sound of feet rushing down the corridor moments before the door was thrown open by a breathless servant.

"Your Highness!" he cried. "The Grand Duke has returned!"

* * *

Cinderella's hands tightened around her apron as the carriage carried her through the streets of Nantes towards the glittering spires of the palace.

She could feel the Grand Duke's carriage bumping over the cobbles of the road; apparently enchantment had done a great deal to make her previous carriage-ride go so much more smoothly. She could hear the horses trotting along in front of them. But she heard them without paying attention, for all Cinderella's thoughts were turned inward, towards herself.

At first, when they had left the chateau that had been her home before it became her prison behind, Cinderella had been barely able to conceal her excitement. It had taken a great store of self-control to keep from smiling, from laughing, from singing even. But with every turn of the carriage wheels that carried them closer to the palace, the more doubts overtook Cinderella's thoughts, until it was now taking all her effort not to display her nerves by shaking.

It did not help that a silence had settled between His Grace and herself. The duke had asked her a few questions, when the ride had begun: her name, her age, her birthday; but the questions appeared to have stopped now. There was nothing to distract Cinderella from her fears, from her concerns.

What would happen to her if she was turned away?

When she had felt a touch upon her hand at the ball and had turned, startled, to see who it was...she had stared into a pair of beautiful brown eyes, and as this strange gentleman had bowed to Cinderella had felt her worries melting away. When he had taken her hand in his grasp and kissed it she had felt joy blossoming inside her. When they had danced, with his hand upon her waist, she had trembled with delight.

And when she had heard that that man, who had been so handsome, so gallant, so kind, the man who had for some span of four hours become for her the entire world, had been so taken with her in turn that he desired her hand in marriage, Cinderella had become so lost in happiness that she had lost all her wits and betrayed herself and her secret to her stepmother.

And yet he was a prince. The prince, in fact.

And she was Cinderella. She had been born to a gentleman, but she had no money, no land, and no title. She came from no great house who would promote her fortunes. She had no alliances to bring, swords to place at the feet of the throne. She was simply Cinderella, with a horse and a dog and a band of faithful mice to stand as her supporters.

The last time she had walked into the palace she had been clad in a gown of white and silver, with sparkling earrings covering her ears and a hair band of white silk on her head, wearing glass slippers on her feet. Now she wore a torn apron, a dusty skirt and a well-worn blouse, with black working slippers on her feet and her hair hanging loose down to her shoulders, without even a ribbon in it.

The prince had fallen for a highborn maid in silks and petticoats. Would he not the think it cruellest joke when she stood revealed to him as a scullion in threadbare rags?

If the King were to say to her, 'Begone! You are not fit consort for my son, to be his wife and bear his children.' Cinderella would not blame him.

If the Prince were to say to her, 'Who are you? You are not the maid I fell with whom I fell in love. Go.' Cinderella would not be surprised.

That did not mean she was particularly anxious for the humiliation, or for the unenviable choices that would confront her. She had no desire to go back to her Stepmother's house, to the mockery of Anastasia and Drizella. But where else could she go? She had no friends who would take her in, she could sew but she had no formal training in it...she would be reduced to tramping from manor to manor, seeing if anyone had a position open for a maid; even then, her Stepmother was unlikely to give her a good reference.

Cinderella suddenly realised that His Grace had spoken and she had ignored him. "Forgive me, Your Grace, I am afraid I did not hear." She hoped he did not think too ill of her unforgivable rudeness.

The Grand Duke smiled. "I was saying, my dear, that it is not mere loyalty or flattery which leads me to name His Highness Prince Eugene as the foremost gentleman in Gallia, nor to say that, despite his unrestrained demeanour, His Majesty is in many respects a most excellent judge of character."

His smile was kindly, and Cinderella read into his eyes that he had sensed her fears and was trying to reassure her. The King, he seemed to say, would see beyond her straitened circumstances, and Prince Eugene beyond her tattered clothes.

Cinderella very much hoped that that would turn out to be the case, but she could not give herself to hope completely, not yet. Her hopes had been dashed too often for her to put all her weight upon them so easily.

"You are a very astute observer, Your Grace," Cinderella murmured.

"I have had little choice but to become one, my dear, living as I have," the Grand Duke replied.

Not too long after, the Ducal carriage passed through the palace gates - which closed behind them - and stopped near the front steps. The Duke dismounted first, and held out his hand to help Cinderella down.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Cinderella said softly as she stepped down onto the gravel path. The palace towered above her, the marble spires rising upwards into the clouds so steeply she could scarce see the top. Before her, the steps lead into the great gaping mouth of the palace itself. Strange, that it should see more imposing in the daylight than at night. Or was it simply that she felt herself to be less than she had been.

"Come, my dear," the Grand Duke said. "I shall escort you to His Highness."

Cinderella took his proffered arm. "Please, Your Grace, you must call me Cinderella."

"Indeed," the Grand Duke said. "Such a pretty name, if I may say."

"Thank you, Your Grace."

Cinderella allowed His Grace to lead her up the steps, her delicate footfalls making no sound at all upon the crimson carpet, and into the palace itself. The corridor was guarded, as it had been last night, by a long row of soldiers in blue jackets and white crossbelts, with tall red plumes in their shakoes and pikes gripped in their gloved hands. Last night they had seemed to stare at her in amazement and admiration. Now it seemed to Cinderella that they were looking at her with contempt. She kept her face to the front, keeping her expression fixed with a stillness that these cold soldiers might have been proud of, and allowed the Grand Duke to lead her past their ranks.

He led her, not up the staircase towards the grand ballroom, but through a side door not far from the stairs, and from there through a confusing labyrinth of corridors that Cinderella soon stopped trying to remember. She found herself comforted somewhat by the fact that, although she was undoubtedly to be taken before the prince straight away, she was not going to be presented before the gaze of the entire court. It seemed that she was to have a private audience.

Cinderella felt her heart beating faster with every step she took. It was not that he was a prince, although to have been presented to a prince would undoubtedly have been course enough for nerves. But she had not known he was a prince last night, when the sight of his eyes was enough to calm her anxiety and make her aflutter with excitement, when the feel of his hand in hers had been enough to tell her this was right, when sheer joy of dancing with him, of walking with him, of being with him had been sufficient to rob her of all sense of time. All of that was what was making her both nervous and excited at the same time as the Grand Duke led her back to him.

Cinderella was not well acquainted with men. In fact, she could not say that she had really known a man since her father died. Her Stepmother had sent her into town, and she had exchanged pleasantries and the occasional kind word with the shopkeepers; she knew that the green grocer was worried by how delicate his wife's health seemed, she knew that the butcher disapproved of his sister's beau because he was a cavalryman, she knew that the candle-maker's son had won a scholarship to a public school. But these were mere acquaintances, such as one might have with someone they passed regularly on the street, she would not call it knowing. Occasionally a man would stop her in the street and ask her to join him for a drink or some such, but Cinderella had always refused, lest her reputation suffer and shackle her forever to her Stepmother and stepsisters even more securely than she was already. She did not know men; so how could she tell if she loved this man? She felt...something, but was it love? Cinderella had no idea; she had never felt anything with which to compare this feeling. She thought it was love, it had felt like love at the time, she had sung of love...but was it? She hoped it was, if only because the Prince clearly thought that it was.

Whatever it was, it was something, and if it was not love it was something almost as precious, for Cinderella had never felt so happy as in those few hours.

Yet what if, when he saw her, the Prince did not agree? What if his feelings, conjured in the night, melted away under the harsh light of day?

What if she did love him, but he no longer felt the same?

The Grand Duke stopped before a white door, gripping the brass handle lightly. "I am afraid that I must leave you here, my dear."

Cinderella took a deep breath and composed herself, fighting down the emotions swelling and swirling in her breast. "His Highness is..."

"Yes," the Grand Duke said. "Good luck, Cinderella."

Cinderella curtsied. "You have been very kind, Your Grace."

His Grace smiled fondly, and opened the door.

Cinderella lowered her eyes, keeping them fixed on the floor as she stepped through the open doorway. Only when she heard the door close behind her did she look up.

And there he stood.

He was nearly exactly as she remembered him. A little more rumpled-looking perhaps, a little more tired, but there was no doubt that this man - the prince of Armorique - was the same man who had kissed her hand, who had taken her in his arms, who had stolen her heart away in the span of a single night. She had only to look into his eyes to know the truth.

Cinderella did not look long. Humility would become her, in the circumstances, and she did not wish to disconcert the prince by staring at him too long. So she lowered her eyes, bowed her head a little, and curtsied.

"Your Highness," she murmured.

Inside, her soul was singing. It was he! He truly was the Prince! She was the girl he had been seeking! She would be free!

Provided he was not dismayed by her homely dress, her lack of wealth, her poverty.

The moments flew by. The room was silent as a mausoleum. The Prince said nothing.

Cinderella felt her mouth begin to dry. She waiting, looking down at her feet in their common black slippers, waiting for him to speak, either to summon her - though that seemed unlikely now - or to dismiss her from his presence.

He said nothing.

Cinderella closed her eyes, and hoped that her dismay did not show too much on her face. It was too much to hope that it would not show at all. So. After the talk of love, it had all come to nothing after all. It was her gown and slippers, her glimmering hair band and her long gloves, her borrowed air of elegance and sophistication that he had loved, not her.

Of course it was. He had not even known her name, nor she his. How could she have imagined that he would desire such as she, would choose to turn his back on the princesses and ladies who desired him and sweep a scullion to a better life. Foolish girl, had not her Stepmother's rule taught her that life was not a song?

She would not go back. Cinderella swore that to herself. She would go anywhere else, but she would not go back to her Stepmother's house. Anywhere, even to sleep on the street with the sky as her blanket, would be better than facing the humiliation of returning to that place, rejected and empty-handed, to laughed at by her stepsisters, to see the cruel, triumphant smile upon her Stepmother's face. She would rather die, at this point.

But she would have to go somewhere, for she could stay here no longer.

Would she live, after this...for love had fled, would hope fly with it? Perhaps not, but she would love no other now, she knew that for sure. At the very least she would not love like this, so purely and so strongly. Anything else would be as a candle to the sun.

Yet it would be candles, for the sun did not want her. And why should he, when he had the stars clamouring to be his consort? All she could now was spare His Highness the embarrassment of having to dismiss her, to tell her that a terrible mistake had been made, that he did not wish to take her as his bride.

Cinderella curtsied once again. "I apologise, Your Highness, for the mistake. And for my presumption. I beg your pardon." She turned to go, one hand reaching for the door.

The Prince hummed. Specifically he hummed the first bar of the waltz that had been playing when they had begun to dance.

Cinderella stopped, half turned away from the prince and half towards the door. Upon her right was poverty and shame, rejection and dismissal; upon her left was acceptance, desire, love, happiness. She closed her eyes, and hummed the next bar.

"So this is what makes life divine," the Prince whispered.

Cinderella turned her face towards him, at last looking him in those beautiful brown eyes. "I'm all aglow." She hummed a little more. "And now I know."

"And now I know," the Prince whispered. "It is you." He crossed the distance between them in three quick strides and took her hands gently in his own. "My lady." He raised her right hand, and kissed it as he had the night before.

Cinderella smiled, even as she looked away in embarrassment. "I fear I have a confession to make, Your Highness. As you can see from my dress, I am no lady. I am only a poor maid named Cinderella, and I no more have a title to adorn my name then I have diamonds to adorn my neck or pearls to deck my hair."

The Prince smiled. "Your hair needs no peals to shine bright. Your neck needs no diamonds to be fair. And your name needs no titles to be lovely, and lovelier than the word itself."

"Your Highness is too kind," Cinderella murmured.

"Though I have titles to adorn my name, in multitude," the Prince said. "Still they are only adornments, and not the name itself. My name is Eugene, and I would be honoured for you to use it, my lady."

Cinderella's eyebrow rose. "You would be Eugene to me, but you would have me be your lady?"

"If you will," Eugene said, with amusement in his voice. "Will you walk with me, my...Cinderella?"

"I will," Cinderella said, allowing Eugene to take her arm in his, and lead her out into the palace and into the spacious gardens.

"I hope you will not think it untoward," Eugene said nervously. "If I ask you-"

"How I can look like this today, when I looked as I did last night?" Cinderella said.

Eugene nodded. "You must admit that it may seem confusing."

Cinderella looked away. "I am afraid that it must remain confusing for a little. I'm afraid..." _I'm afraid you would think me mad if I told you it was all the work of magic._ "Do you trust me, Eugene?"

He looked into her eyes. "I do."

"Then trust me, and remain confused for a little while, if you will," Cinderella said. "Can you?"

Eugene bowed. "I can."

Cinderella smiled. "I think, that when you learn the truth, it will also answer the other question I think you want to ask."

"Will it?" Eugene said with a laugh. "And what is my second question?"

"Why did I leave?" Cinderella said.

Eugene snorted. "Am I so obvious or are you so astute?"

"The question is obvious, I think," Cinderella said.

"I was afraid the answer would be that I had driven you away," Eugene confessed.

"Driven me away?" Cinderella said, chuckling. "With what, pray? Your hideous looks?"

"My poor manners?" Eugene said.

"You were a perfect gentleman," Cinderella said.

"A perfect gentleman would not have grabbed you by the arm to prevent you going," Eugene said.

"Very well then," Cinderella said. "An almost perfect gentleman."

Eugene laughed. "You have a clever tongue, Cinderella."

"You are too kind," Cinderella said. "Eugene, I know I have not answered your questions, but nevertheless, may I ask one in turn?"

"Of course." Eugene smiled. "Though I may give as cryptic a response as you have given me."

Cinderella snorted. "That would be only fair, and I can hardly complain. Why me? Out of all the girls at the ball, why did you ask me to dance with you?"

"Why did you say yes?" Eugene replied. "You did not know who I was, but you took a stranger's arm and spent all night with him. I could as easily turn your question upon you."

"You could, if I had not asked first," Cinderella said.

Eugene was very still, as still as any of the statues that decorated the gardens. When he spoke, his voice was soft, and quiet, as if he feared that what he spoke might be heard. "Because you did not know me. Because something about you drew my eye. Because you are beautiful. Because...who can know what fate intends? Because you are you. It sounds absurd but there it is; there is no one thing about you that I can point to and say that that is what I love, because I love you all entire."

He dropped to one knee. "And I will love you, if you will allow it, for all the days that we shall live from this day forth. Cinderella, will you let me care for you when you are sick, protect you when you are in danger, lift you up when you are sunk in misery? Will you live with me and be mine as I am yours?" He reached into his pocket, and produced a band of gold, topped with a diamond of brilliant cut, flanked by a pair of sapphires. "Will you be my queen, my princess, my bride?"

Cinderella's smile was dazzling as a tear of joy pricked at the corner of her eye. "With all my heart, I will."


	2. Mademoiselle Cinderella

Mademoiselle Cinderella

King Louis slapped his hand down hard upon the table. "Splendid news! Splendid! Congratulations, my boy! I'm delighted to see that after all these years I've finally worn down your defences...ahem, I mean that after so much searching you have finally found love."

"Yes, father, that was what you meant to say, I'm sure," Eugene murmured. He glanced at Cinderella with a mildly apologetic smile, squeezing her hand gently as he did so.

"Welcome to our family, Cinderella," the King said heartily. "I'm sure that you'll make an excellent mother, ahem, wife."

Cinderella curtsied. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I'll do my best to be a good wife and a good princess."

"That's the spirit," His Majesty declared. "I can already see that my son could learn a great deal from you in regards to obedience and duty, my dear."

Cinderella permitted herself a smile. "If you say so, Your Majesty."

"I do. I do indeed," the King said loudly. "Now, Olivier, start making the preparations. The wedding shall be held tonight."

The Grand Duke - Cinderella was mildly surprised to realise that his name was Olivier - started a little at the royal pronouncement.

"Tonight? But sire, there are so many details to attend to that have not even been begun. The young lady does not even have a gown to wear."

"Hmm. Oh, very well," the King grumbled. "Tomorrow then. That ought to be enough to sling some silk around her."

"Father, I'm not going to change my mind about this just because of a slight delay," Eugene said. "There's no need to rush into this as though I were some plough-hand who has gotten the farmer's daughter into trouble. I don't need a gun to my head. There is time to get this right, and frankly I'd prefer that it was. What do you think Cinderella, would you rather have a wedding quickly or a wedding to look back upon?"

In truth, Cinderella shared some of what Eugene evidently believed to be his father's fears, that he would wake from this dream and realise what madness he had been engaged. And yet, she feared that less now than when she had made the long walk into his presence earlier today, and she found comfort in the compassion in his eyes, the warmth of his hand, the softness of his touch. She did not want to walk down the aisle in her servant's rags, or forced into some awkward gown that barely fit her. She did not want to be wed in secret, before a priest yanked from his bed and a handful of witnesses.

"I...would rather my wedding day be a special occasion, if it please Your Majesty."

His Majesty rolled his eyes. "Since you are the only maid in Gallia my son is willing to marry I suppose I must indulge you. Very well, but I wish for no unnecessary delays, mark me. I want you wed as soon as possible. But, since you two wish this done properly then it will be done _properly_ , with all of the nobility of the realm and the good burghers of the city in attendance, and the common folk shall line the roads to cheer you in your carriage."

"As subtle as ever, father," Eugene said with a grin.

"Remember that you were the one who wanted a memorable occasion," the King replied. He looked around. "And? What else are you waiting for? Summon the tailors, summon the dressmakers! Dispatch the invitations and send for the Archbishop! Light the ovens and set the cooks to work! Let the word be spread across ever corner of Armorique! My son has found his bride and soon they shall be wed! Go!"

His Grace the Grand Duke scurried off, with as much dignity as he could muster while the King was waving his arms at him to get him to speed up. Other servants were on the move too, bustling hither and thither to relay the royal commands, moving across the royal parlour with steps that were at once hasty but solemn at the same time.

It felt exceedingly strange to Cinderella that she was one of only three people in the room who were not consumed by haste. For many years in her life prior to this she had been the hasty one, taking the brusque commands and dashing from here to there and back again to carry them out. It felt so strange that now she should be still, unmoving, while other servants moved around her.

It felt so strange that she turned to Eugene and asked. "What should we do? What should I do?"

Eugene blinked. "Do? What do you mean, Cinderella?"

"Well, surely we aren't going to do nothing," Cinderella said. "It is our wedding."

"True enough, but it is also a royal wedding, which means that it will be more done to us than done for ourselves," Eugene explained.

Cinderella frowned. "But it's our wedding day."

"And a pageant for the people," Eugene said. "Which means that, like leading actors, our role is limited to turning up, wearing the costumes and saying the lines that we're given."

"I'd rather you didn't talk about it like that," Cinderella said softly.

Eugene bowed his head. "I'm sorry. You're right, this is our marriage and it is more than play, for both of us. But, if you are going to become my wife, you will have to learn that there is an element of outward show in everything we do. There are always eyes upon us, and what those eyes see they will judge. So...watch your step."

"I have been watching my steps with great care since I was a child," Cinderella murmured. "I just...I have worked for my family for so long, waited on them hand and foot, attended to their every need; it feels so strange to be the only person not doing any work when something is going on."

Eugene laughed. "You should enjoy the rest, for I fear that you will be put to work again soon enough. Not sweeping floors or making breakfast, true, but for all that you will be better dressed you may find the work of royalty is harder, for all the weight of the kingdom bears down upon us."

"Harder, perhaps," Cinderella said, though privately she was a little sceptical that attending balls and banquets could ever be considered harder than bending her back day after day with mop and broom and bucket. "But a burden shared is a burden halved, and I won't be alone in this work, will I?"

"Never," Eugene said, taking her by the arm and leading her out of the room. "Are you sure you don't want your family punished in any way? It could be done you know."

"I know," Cinderella said. "But I have no wish to answer unkindness with unkindness. Leave them be, they are not as terrible as-"

"As you made them sound?" Eugene said.

Cinderella looked down at her feet. "If that is so then it is I who have been unkind."

"You have had cause enough, I think," Eugene growled.

"I don't want to talk about my stepmother, or my stepsisters," Cinderella said. "So, what do we do, while other people plan our wedding?"

Eugene laughed again. "I assure you darling that we're in the very best of hands. And we do have our part to play each of us."

"Really? And what is that?"

"We are to become mannequins."

* * *

Cinderella soon found out what he meant when the dressmakers arrived, a gaggle of a half dozen master clothiers accompanied by apprentices bearing bolts of cloth in their arms or hefting boxes of fabrics and designs.

"Is my dress going to be made by committee?" Cinderella asked under her breath as she watched them jostle for first place through the door, scowling at one another as they passed the guards and competed for precedence up the stairs.

His Grace, who had found time amidst all his other tasks to be on hand while Cinderella watched the possession, bent a little to speak softly into her ear. "Unfortunately there has been no need for gowns or dresses in the palace since the late Queen's passing, so equally there is no dressmaker the crown is wont to call upon. I thought you might like to make your own choice amongst the finest in the city."

Cinderella looked at him. "That was very considerate of you, Your Grace. But why are they being so rude to one another?"

"If you should choose them for your wedding gown, highness, and for your dresses after, it will be a great fillip to each of them," His Grace explained. "They fear to lose their chance at patronage."

Cinderella frowned slightly, thinking that this boorish behaviour on their part was only making her wish that some other choice would present itself.

Just at that moment, voices began to echo down the corridor and very soon a latecomer appeared, with no servant or apprentice to follow in her footsteps, carrying her own cumbrous baggage, deep in argument with one of the palace equerries.

"Madam I am sorry but you cannot simply-"

"The master dressmakers have been summoned and I am a master dressmaker!"

"You have not been invited and you have no standing to claim-"

"I will have you know that I apprenticed with Cosimo and Giuseppe de Peora in Florence, I have received my master's credentials from the Florentine guild and I created the wedding gown worn by Margravine Matilda of Tuscany for her wedding to Signor Benvolio of the House of Montague. I have as much right to stand in this company as any man and more experience. Now stand aside so that your princess may look truly splendid."

"What is going on here?" the Grand Duke inquired.

The eager newcomer turned towards the staircase, where Cinderella and the Duke looked down over the scene, and instantly dropped her boxes and her bolts of silk and swept a courtly curtsey to them both. "Your highness. Your grace. Allow me to introduce myself: Mademoiselle Lucrecia Adessi, dressmaker to ladies of the highest quality, at your service."

"You have come to present your work?" the Grand Duke asked.

"She has come without an invitation," the equerry said in tones of stentorian disapproval.

"If you knew of what I was capable you would have invited me and me alone," Lucrecia declared. She was a tall, lithe young woman with a Mediterranean complexion but surprisingly little of Italy in her accent. Her hair was charcoal black, falling down her face in waves, and her eyes were a light blue. "I am not known in this country yet, it is true, but I have letters of recommendation from excellent and worthy people vouching for my skill, and I am sure that I can more than demonstrate my abilities and worth-"

"Be that as it may madam," the Grand Duke interrupted. "You were not summoned, you are not known-"

"If to be known is all then why is His Highness not marrying the daughter of some foreign crown or noble scion?" Lucrecia demanded. "Instead we are here to garb a maid of whom none have heard because to be known means little to the prince in choice of bride. I am not known, this is true, though I believe with all my heart I shall one day be so well known that all the court of Armorique shall wear my fashions, but to be known in this matter should mean less to you than to be skilful. I am as yet unknown here, but I have a keen eye and deft hand, I have vision and I have many testaments to the keenness of my fingers. All I ask is an opportunity to prove my boasts, and in return I guarantee a gown unmatched in Gallia. Is opportunity so much to ask?"

"No," Cinderella replied. "It is not. You may show me what you can, mademoiselle."

"My dear," the Grand Duke murmured, raising one eyebrow.

"I am sorry, your grace, if I have overstepped," Cinderella said. "But I would like to give her a chance; one chance, as she asks."

His Grace hesitated for a moment, and then smiled. "As you wish, my lady."

"Thank you, Your Highness," Lucrecia said. "You will not regret this."

* * *

In his dressing room, Prince Eugene held out his arms while this tailor took his measurements.

"Are they any different from last time?" Eugene asked. "Have I gained any, um...girth?"

"No, your highness, you remain a fine figure of a man," the tailor said.

"Good, good," Eugene murmured, looking himself up and down in the mirror.

"You should wear the dragoon uniform," Etienne said from where he sat at the far end of the room, reading a newspaper with his feet up on the blue ottoman.

Eugene glanced back at him. "What makes you say that?"

"Because I'd quite like to wear the hussar uniform and if you wore uniform then as your best man I'd be able to get away with it."

Eugene rolled his eyes. "As I'm the groom, shouldn't you be trying to accommodate me when it comes to attire and not the other way around?"

"It's a nice uniform," Etienne said.

"Not as nice as your hussar getup with that fur-trimmed pelisse," Eugene replied. "If we dressed like that I would be quite outshone."

"That would make a change," Etienne said, amusement in his voice as he turned the page of the newspaper. He paused for a moment. "It's her regiment, isn't it?"

"What?"

"The Princess Royal Hussars," Etienne said. "Once she marries you, this Cinderella will become my Colonel in Chief, won't she?"

Eugene considered it. "Yes, I suppose she will."

"Hmm," Etienne murmured. "I suppose from that standpoint it makes sense that the Princess Royal Hussars should have a...fancier dress uniform than the Crown Prince Dragoons. Not that you'd be able to tell from looking at our Princess Royal to be."

"I would say that when you are a servant, dressing like one makes a degree of sense," Eugene replied, a trifle sharply.

"I said nothing," Etienne replied.

"No," Eugene muttered. "But your tone said everything."

Etienne turned another page in the newspaper.

"Is anything going on in the world?" Eugene asked.

"The Anjevins have given the Empire a pasting on the Loire, but the Flemish have been defeated. They may not last much longer."

"We're well out of that," Eugene said.

"Until the wolf comes to our door," Etienne muttered darkly.

Eugene said nothing. There was nothing to say that had not been said before. He changed the subject. "How's the boy?"

Etienne was silent for a moment. "Well enough. The question of his education will arise soon."

"He is so old already?" Eugene asked.

"Three, nearly four," Etienne said.

"Time enough yet for you to consider the matter."

"Not too much time."

"But time enough," Eugene replied.

Etienne was silent for a moment. "As you say, time enough." He sighed. "So, what's she like?"

Eugene smiled. "Everything I knew that she would be. And more, I think."

"She's asking you to take a lot on trust."

"And? What of it? I do trust her," Eugene said.

"Clearly," Etienne said. "And yet..."

"And yet what?"

"I can see for myself she's very pretty," Etienne said, looking up from the paper. "But yesterday she's a servant. In a few days she will be a princess. Do you think she can do the job?"

"I know she can," Eugene said. "You'll regret it if you underestimate her."

"I look forward to knowing her better then," Etienne said. "She certainly seems taken with you."

"No more than I with her," Eugene said. "I can imagine no other in her place."

Etienne chuckled. "If she is not a perfect paragon then I shall be exceedingly disappointed, both generally and in your judgement."

"You will not be disappointed, I promise you," Eugene said. "I am not, nor shall I ever be."

"Yes, well, you're her husband, or will be soon enough," Etienne said. "If she were to treat me the same as you something would be very wrong."

* * *

By the time that Lucrecia Adessi entered the dressing room Cinderella was beginning to wish that she had agreed to be married in her servant's rags, rather than having to spend hours being poked and prodded by dressmakers who did, as Eugene had told her, treat her like a mannequin on which they could hang their creations without the slightest thought to what she might want in a wedding dress. None of them had quite told her that she was wrong in her opinions, but they had each of them insinuated that she was too inexperienced, too poor - though again, not in so many words - to understand what was a suitable gown for a princess. Cinderella thought they should be grateful that she was who she was, a less controlled young lady might well have screamed at them.

 _When I dreamed of gorgeous gowns, little did I imagine that I would have to put up with this. It's a pity my fairy godmother can't make me a dress._

So when the door to the dressing room opened and the Italian woman tottered in, half concealed beneath all her things, Cinderella did not hold up high expectations.

Lucrecia deposited her samples and the like in the corner of the room, and then curtsied. "Your Highness, thank you again for agreeing to see me."

"I am not a princess yet," Cinderella replied, a touch of frosty courtesy in her voice. "For a few days yet, I am simply Cinderella."

"You say that as though we are equals, darling," Lucrecia said. "But you are the bride, the customer and the betrothed of the Prince of Armorique. You are entitled to a bit of deference from a mere dressmaker, don't you think?"

"I am afraid your predecessors have not conditioned me to expect any," Cinderella replied.

Lucrecia chuckled. "I'm sure that I can put Your Highness at her ease."

"I told you, I'm not a highness, yet."

Lucrecia nodded. "As you say, mademoiselle. Now darling, what kind of dress would you like to wear on your wedding day?"

Cinderella blinked. "I...uh..."

"No one else has asked you this?" Lucrecia asked, rolling her eyes. "So uncivilised. Are you a horse, to bear tack and harness without complaint? No! You are the bride, why should you not choose for yourself what you would wear?"

"But aren't you supposed to be the expert?" Cinderella asked.

Lucrecia smiled. "And so, because I know my trade, I will take your notions and create beauty out of them, even though you ask me to make you a dress that will make you look like a pig in silk - quite a task in one so lovely, that would be - then I will make you look so beautiful a pig than all the lords in the land will rush to the farms in search of brides. But it is not for me to tell you what you may or may not wear, what is or is not suitable for your wedding gown.

"I create beauty; it is my calling and my passion. Sometimes, as now, ladies come to me who are already beautiful and it is my pleasure to enhance that beauty with my creations. At other times the ladies I work for are...less so, and so I must find the beauty in them and labour diligently to bring it out. But beauty shines in happiness, mademoiselle, it will not be found in misery or discomfort. And so I will hear your wishes, labour to them, and not force you to wear anything that you do not wish to don."

Cinderella smiled. "You are an unusual dressmaker, Mademoiselle Adessi."

"I am a Florentine," Lucrecia said. "There, you would be given such courtesy by the greenest of apprentices. Of course there the greenest of apprentices would not be allowed within sight of a royal commission, but I am sure you take my point."

"I've never been to Florence," Cinderella said. "Is it nice there?"

"Oh! It is simply heavenly, mademoiselle," Lucrecia said. "The heart of fashion and the soul of art reside there beyond doubt."

"Then why have you come here?" Cinderella asked.

Lucrecia chuckled. "One of the difficulties with being the heart of fashion is that it is very crowded with dressmakers and tailors, many of them old and well established. I could not stay in Master Cosimo's shadow forever, and there was little space for me to establish myself. So I came here, where there is more room to grow.

"And now, mademoiselle, shall we get to work?"

Cinderella chuckled. "Yes, we probably should, shouldn't we? So, where do you want me to stand?"

"Oh, no, darling, that all comes later," Lucrecia said, pulling a notebook out from her bag. "First we shall talk about vision. Do you mind if I sit?"

"Please do," Cinderella said, taking a seat of her own on the wooden armchair in the corner of the room. Lucrecia took the stool beside the mirror. "Though it seems strange to be asking me for permission. It's hardly my palace any more than it is yours."

"It is the palace of your betrothed and his father," Lucrecia said. "Now, my dear, what sort of dress would you like?"

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "Now I feel very foolish. I have just complained that I have not been consulted, and now that you are consulting me I find that I have nothing to say."

Lucrecia's smile was encouraging. "You're probably overthinking it, darling, I'm not asking you to describe every fold and curve of the gown – you must leave me something to do, after all – but I am sure that you have some general impressions, some likes and dislikes, some idea of how you see yourself upon your wedding day?"

"Something elegant," Cinderella said, finding that when it was reduced to such basic terms it was much easier to find something to say. "But simple at the same time. The other dressmakers talked about sewing so many jewels into the dress that I could hardly imagine moving in it, or patterns that will draw the eye, or…I want to look beautiful on my wedding day, but I want…I want…"

"You want people to be looking at you, and not your dress?" Lucrecia suggested.

"Yes," Cinderella said. "Yes, that's exactly what I was talking about."

Lucrecia nodded. "A truly excellent dress will accentuate the beauty of the bride, but it should never consume it. It astonishes me how many dressmakers fail to understand this. Our role is not to dazzle the eyes of all with testaments to our skill, the true testament to our skill is the praise given to the client. So, simple but, of course, elegant. Now, do you have any preference when it comes to sleeves: long sleeves, short sleeves, gloves, bare arms?"

"I…I really don't know," Cinderella murmured.

"More generally then, do you want to be a demure bride or a revealing one?"

Cinderella clasped her hands together in her lap. "Demure would suit a princess bride better, don't you think?"

"I think it depends on the country," Lucrecia murmured. "But if you wish to be demure…I think long sleeves in that case. And a full length skirt. A ballgown?"

"Oh, yes, certainly."

"And the traditional white?"

"Oh, of course," Cinderella said.

Lucrecia nodded, her charcoal pencil scratching against the paper as she sketched out some design or other. "Yes, I definitely think that there is something to work with there. In fact it will be magnificent, if I do say so myself." She stopped sketching, and rose smoothly to her feet, walking across the dressing room to present her drawing to Cinderella. "It is only a crude sketch, I know, but it should give you some idea of what I have in mind."

Cinderella gasped. "I can imagine it already," she murmured, looking at the sketch in front of her. It was not great art, but it showed her everything that she needed to see: the downward swoop of the ballgown as it spread out around her feet, the way that the bodice would nip in around her waist, the neckline, the sleeves. "Oh, yes, this looks lovely. I…" she hesitated, wondering how much she ought to reveal to this woman. Lucrecia was a stranger to her, and a stranger to the palace too, so there was no one to vouch for her. But, on the other hand, she had been kind to Cinderella, the kindest of all the dressmakers come to call by far, and that encouraged Cinderella to speak to her where she would not have to other people. "Since I was a little girl I've dreamed of getting married in a beautiful dress like that."

Lucrecia smiled. "You were a romantic child?"

"Oh, yes," Cinderella replied. "And I've always loved beautiful things: flowers, dresses-"

"Yourself?" Lucrecia asked.

Cinderella felt herself blush. "I…I have never told myself that I was ugly to look at."

"You were not a liar then," Lucrecia said genially. "If you like the design, mademoiselle, I give you my word that I shall do my part to make your wedding as perfect as your dreams."

"That's very kind of you, but I'm afraid that it could never be that," Cinderella said. _After all, neither mother nor father are here to see me wed._ "But thank you anyway."

"And so we now come to the practicalities," Lucrecia said. "Please stand up, darling, and I'll take your measurements."

Cinderella got up, and walked to the centre of the room to stand before the mirror as Lucrecia fished out her measuring tape and measured her across the shoulders, waist, hips and outseam. "May I be presumptuous, mademoiselle?"

"I suppose so."

"Do you have anything else to wear?"

Cinderella blinked. "Are you offering to make me more dresses?"

"You wear those old rags very well, darling, but they're still just old rags," Lucrecia observed. "It hardly seems fitting that you should have to tramp around this gorgeous palace in them until your wedding, and then wear them again once the wedding is over."

Cinderella looked down. "Would you be able to make me something else? But what about my wedding gown?"

"Oh, I think I can manage to do both," Lucrecia said. "It would be anything fancy, but I daresay it will be prettier than what you've got on at the moment."

"You're very kind, Mademoiselle Adessi."

"I only ask one thing in return," Lucrecia said. "Well, besides payment obviously," she sniggered. "I ask that when someone asks you where you got your beautiful dresses from: give them my name."

Cinderella laughed. "I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise, Lucrecia."

* * *

The sun was beginning to set over this day of change, and the servants were busy drawing all the curtains in the myriad windows of the palace as His Grace the Grand Duke led Cinderella by the arm up the winding stairs – so many stairs, Cinderella had lost count! – to what was called the Queen's Tower.

"The apartments have been vacant since, ahem, Her Majesty's passing," His Grace murmured. "But I assured you my dear that they have been thoroughly cleaned in preparation for your stay."

"Are you sure that it will be alright," Cinderella asked, her voice soft, barely more than a whisper. "I mean, I'm not-"

"No, but His Majesty decided that since you will very soon be the senior woman in the family then not only should you have the Queen's Tower apartments, but also that there was little point in you not moving in immediately," His Grace replied. "And where His Majesty has given his approval, none will gainsay it."

Cinderella nodded. The last thing that she wanted was for people to think that she was jumping at the chance to steal the chambers of the late queen, or even that she was marrying Eugene in order to get her hands on the royal wealth and power.

She knew that there would be some who thought so. How could they not, she being so low as she was and he being as high as he was? It would happen, and she could bear it, so long as the opinion did not become so widespread. And so it was important that she behave with modesty and humility, and not do anything that could be construed as getting above herself, for that would only fuel fires that she did not even wish to be lit.

She clutched the invitation a little tighter in her hand, making the paper crinkle a little between her narrow fingers. That was a bit of an indulgence, but one that she hoped that she would be forgiven. It wasn't as though she intended to tell many people about it.

Cinderella allowed herself to be led up the red-carpeted staircase as it wound its way around the tower, stopping every now and then upon the landings that marked the various floors, until they reached very near the top of the building, where a woman awaited them.

She was older than Cinderella, about thirty years old perhaps, give or take a year either way, with light brown hair tied up in a severe bun at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were brown too, soft and light and set in a round face. She looked at Cinderella, but in such a way that suggested that she did not wish to be seen to be looking at her.

"This is Marie-Elise Duchamp," His Grace said, gesturing to the other woman. "She has been appointed to be your lady's maid."

Marie-Elise curtsied, with her hands clasped behind her back. "Pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"I'm delighted to meet you too, Marie-Elise," Cinderella said, and reflexively, upon years of instinct, she found that she was curtseying back, and only realised her mistake when she caught the quirk of Marie-Elise's eyebrow into the recesses of her sweeping bangs. Cinderella felt her face begin to go red, and looked down at the ground and her soft black slippers.

His Grace was enough of a gentleman to let it pass without comment. "Duchamp has been in service to the palace for some time, so if you need anything then I am sure that she will be able to help you. So I will leave you in her capable hands, my dear, and I shall see you at dinner."

"Yes, Your Grace, I look forward to it," Cinderella murmured. "Goodbye, for now."

The Grand Duke smiled fondly. "Goodbye, mademoiselle. Duchamp."

Marie Elise curtsied again. "Your Grace."

His Grace retreated down the stairs, his footfalls cushioned by the carpet such that they barely made a sound.

"If you'll follow me, ma'am, I'll show you where everything is," Marie Elise said.

"Thank you, Marie-Elise," Cinderella said.

Marie-Elise cleared her throat slightly. "With respect, ma'am, it is customary for the mistress to address her lady's maid by her surname, not her christian."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Cinderella murmured. "Thank you, Duchamp."

"Quite alright, ma'am, and no harm done," Marie-Elise said. "Now if you'll please follow me."

Marie-Elise led Cinderella up the last small flight on stairs and through a walnut door into such a large suite of apartments that Cinderella's eyes widened and she let out a little involuntary gasp at it. She was no stranger to sleeping at the top of tall towers, but this made her little room in Lady Tremaine's chateau seem like a mere attic by comparison. It was not only single room but many, but even the bedroom looked as large as the music room back home. Not back home, this was her home now, but she knew what she meant. The floor was red wood, polished to a sheen that was nearly reflective, and yet at the same time covered up in many places: by a blue, white and crimson Persian carpet, by a tiger skin throw, by a pair of gold-fringed rugs. The bed looked big enough that four people could have lain in it comfortably, smothered under the embrace of a heavy pink duvet, with a riot of puffy pillows sitting at the head and purple drapes hanging from the four sturdy posts.

A gallic window led out onto a semicircular boundary, with purple curtains ready to close to block out the light of the sun or stars if she wished them too.

A white dressing table – Cinderella put the invitation down their discreetly, while Marie-Elise's attention was elsewhere - sat against the wall, its legs patterned to look with the claws of eagles or falcons, while the vanity mirror was set in a golden frame that glimmered in the dying light of the sun. A long stool, with its feet looking like the hooves of a horse, sat before it, supporting a comfortable looking red cushion.

On the left hand side of the room, from where Cinderella had entered, was a doorway into another room, and Cinderella thought that she could see another room beyond that.

"This, as you can see, ma'am, is the bedroom," Marie-Elise announced. "That room you can see there is the dressing room, where all of your clothes will be kept, then beyond that…" she walked into the dressing room, leaving Cinderella to follow her. Cinderella barely had time to register the wardrobe that looked big enough for a dozen people to climb into and hide before Marie-Elise gestured to the two other rooms branching off from it. "We have the washroom, with the garderobe within, and there we have the sitting room and the boudoir."

"All of this is for me?" Cinderella murmured. The washroom was tiled in marble, with a clawed iron bath sitting in the centre of it, seeming rather lonely amidst so much space, while the sitting room was crowded with a half dozen chairs, one large table and two smaller ones and a piano. And she hardly dared look at what was in the boudoir.

She had not meant to be overheard, but clearly Marie-Elise's ears were sharp. "Of course, ma'am. These are your apartments, for your use. I trust you find them satisfactory?"

Cinderella wondered if Marie-Elise was being sarcastic, but there was no sign of it on her face or in her tone of voice, which had remained businesslike throughout without ever verging into brusqueness. "Um…yes, it's all so…" she decided not to reveal quite the extent to which she was flabbergasted by all this. "Yes, it's quite satisfactory."

Marie-Elise nodded. "Very good ma'am. If you need anything there is a bell-pull in each room, just tug on it and you will summon someone to attend to your needs. I may answer in the first instance or, if not me, then most likely Constance or Lucille, who are quartered downstairs. They're the chambermaids."

Cinderella frowned. "I thought that you were the maid."

Marie-Elise gave the slightest sniff of affront. "I am the _lady's maid_ , ma'am."

"Um, do you mind explaining the difference?"

Marie-Elise blinked. "Forgive me, ma'am, I thought that you had been in service."

"I was," Cinderella replied. "But I did and was everything."

"I apologise, ma'am, if you found my tone too forward."

"That's quite alright," Cinderella said. "But do you mind explaining it for me, I'm not used to this much organisation."

"Of course, ma'am," Marie-Elise replied. "I am your lady's maid. My job is to attend on you and see to your personal needs. I will help you with your appearance: dress, makeup, jewellery, shoes and the like. I will also wash and mend your clothes, bring you meals if you're dining in your room, draw your bath and help you to wash. Constance and Paulette are the chambermaids, their job is to dust, sweep, set the fires, turn the beds, heat the water and make sure that your rooms are clean and well maintained. Then there are a whole host of parlour maids, chambermaids, housemaids, parlour maids and scullery maids, not to mention the footmen, the valets, the butlers and the housekeepers, but you don't need to concern yourself much with them, ma'am, though of course if you should need anything we are all at your service."

Cinderella nodded, though in truth trying to envisage any of it beyond Marie-Elise and the two other women named by her was apt to make her head spin a little. _And to think that I used to do all of that by myself._ "And what about ladies in waiting?"

"Ladies in waiting are not servants, ma'am, but companions," Marie-Elise said. "You had best ask summon above stairs about them, I couldn't really explain it properly."

"And now, ma'am, if you'll forgive me, we'd best get started if we're have to you ready in time for dinner."

"Oh, yes, of course," Cinderella said. It would make a terrible impression if she were to be late for dinner on her first night in the palace. "So, I've never actually had anyone to help me dress or anything like that before," that was a lie, of course, since her mice friends had helped her to dress all the time, but she could hardly tell Marie-Elise that, could she? "So I'm not quite sure how this works. Besides the fact that I…I've only this or something like it to wear."

"Please, ma'am, I'm not incompetent in my employment," Marie-Elise said, reaching into the inordinately spacious wardrobe and pulling out a blue dress. "This belonged to Her Majesty, one of a few that His Majesty has permitted to be given to you. I'm afraid I didn't have your exact measurements, but I've taken in the waist and let down the hem slightly, so it should be a reasonable fit. After tonight I will tailor it more exactly."

Cinderella's hand went to her heart. The dress had a full, ballgown skirt of pale blue, so pale that it was almost, but not quite, white, with an overskirt of an only slightly darker shade covering all of it save for the segment directly in front of the bodice. A sash, studded with large bows, ran just above the hem. There was a no bustle, just a crinkled sash between the dress and the bodice, which was a deeper oceanic blue, and with roughly the cut of the dress that she had worn to the ball last night. It had extravagantly puffed shoulders, and sleeves that went down to about the elbows, ending in lace sleeves that were almost nonexistent on the inside, but long and frilly on the outside.

"Is…His Majesty wishes me to wear the Queen's clothes."

"Some of them, ma'am," Marie-Elise said. "Any that he would not wish you to wear, you do not have."

"I see." Cinderella said. "So, what would you like me to do?"

Cinderella let her work. It was strange, standing there while someone got her dressed as though she was a toddler again and unable to put on her own clothes, but she was soon forced to admit that she could never have gotten this dress on by herself (her arms wouldn't have reached far enough up the back to fasten it up) and her attempts to help where as much a hindrance to Marie-Elise as anything. And so she stood like a mannequin, and moved when she was told to, and allowed the lady's maid to do her work.

And she was very good at it; Marie-Elise had Cinderella encased in the lovely blue dress in no time, and allowed Cinderella few moments to examine herself in the full length mirror in the dressing room before she guided her - which was much the same as commanding her, but in a kinder tone of voice - to the dressing table in the bedroom. It was not a perfect fit, but then Marie-Elise had confessed as much. The dress was still a little loose around the waist and bust, but it wasn't hanging off her ludicrously, and Cinderella considered that she certainly looked more presentable for a royal dinner now than she had before. And it was a pretty dress, with the bows above the hem and the lace on the cuffs. It was most kind of His Majesty to give it to her.

And so they moved on to Cinderella's hair. It was odd, Cinderella reflected, that only a couple of days ago she had been the one helping her stepsisters to dress, doing their hair, prepare themselves for some party or other. She remembered how they had fidgeted throughout, unable to keep still, unable to refrain either from mocking her own appearance or criticising her technique, then blaming her when their own movement caused them all problems. She remembered the time when Anastasia, moving her head at the wrong moment, had gotten her hair tangled in the comb, and Cinderella remembered how her stepmother had punished her for it. Marie-Elise did not have it quite so bad - she did not have to immediately go from this to making sure that all the fires were lit - but she was resolved to treat Marie-Elise better than Anastasia or Drizella had ever treated her.

"Thank you, M-" Cinderella caught herself just in time. "Thank you, Duchamp, you've done a wonderful job."

Duchamp gave a sort of half-curtsy in acceptance of the compliment. "Thank you kindly, ma'am. Now, how would you like your hair?"

Cinderella considered. The truth was that she liked her hair best the way that it was now, worn down, the strawberry blonde locks framing her face, or else tied back into a ponytail or held back around the shoulders with a hair band. Any one of those looked pretty and sweet, and they suited her well. The elegant gallic twist that her fairy godmother had given her for the ball had been beautiful, but in some sense it had seemed less her, and more the wealthy lady she was pretending to be.

But the Prince of Rennes was not marrying pretty or sweet. He would marry that lady, though her wealth had turned out to be far less than advertised, and so that was how Cinderella must appear for him, at least for now. And so she said, "A gallic twist, I think, on top of my head."

Marie-Elise nodded. "As you wish, ma'am, it will look splendid."

So Marie-Elise combed the tangles out then piled up Cinderella's locks atop her head, twisting them round into three rolls like some sort of tiara, pinning them in place. There were no glittering earrings this time, nor silver hairband sparkling like a crown upon her head, but it looked elegant, if not regal, and Cinderella smiled contentedly and thanked Marie-Elise again as the lady's maid moved on to her makeup, applying a soft pink blush to her cheeks and enhancing the pinkness of her lips, while applying the slightest touch of blue above her eyes to enhance their colour. Any worries that Cinderella had had that Marie-Elise would be too brash with her application, as her stepsisters had sometimes demanded, vanished as she observed the deft and understated way she went about it.

"And there we are, ma'am, all done and ready and right on time," Marie-Elise said, a note of justified pride in her voice as she stepped.

Cinderella smiled as she examined herself in the gilt-edged mirror. She tilted her head first this way, and then that. "Oh, thank you so much, Duchamp. It looks beautiful."

"Yes, you do," came the voice from the doorway. "But I don't think that can all be laid at the feet of your excellent lady's maid."

Cinderella turned, and a smile blossomed across her face as she saw Eugene standing in the doorway, dressed in a trim suit of navy blue with a red sash tied around his waist.

"Eugene!" she cried. Her eyes narrowed a little. "How long have you been standing there, watching me?"

"Not long," Eugene replied. "Though I might have waited a little longer if you hadn't given me such a perfect introduction."

Marie-Elise curtsied. "Your Highness."

Eugene acknowledged her with a casual nod. "Duchamp. It seems that you've done sterling work, for which you are to be commended."

"Yes, she's been wonderful," Cinderella said. "But what are you doing here? Am I late?" Her smile faltered a little as she imagined the impatience of His Majesty waiting for her downstairs, despatching his son to roust her downstairs.

"No, you're not late at all," Eugene replied. "I'm simply here to escort my bride-to-be to dinner. Will you take my arm, Cinderella?"

"Of course," Cinderella whispered, crossing the bedroom softly in her new slippers – white, with blue trim – to slip her bare forearm through the crook of his. Her engagement ring sparkled upon her finger where she wrapped her hand around his elbow. _Such a gentleman. Was there ever a girl so fortunate as I in all the world?_

"When you return, ma'am, ring for me," Marie-Elise said. "And I shall help you get ready for bed."

"I will, thank you," Cinderella said, glancing back at her lady's maid before turning her attention fully to the man she had promised to marry, to the firm line of his jaw and the soft, deep, inviting brown of his eyes. She wanted to kiss him.

As if he could have read her thoughts, he bent down to kiss her, but only on the cheek. That was only proper, they were not yet married and Marie-Elise could have seen them. Still, it left her wanting more.

"You look beautiful," he said, as he led her out of the room and down the stairs.

Cinderella blushed, and bowed her head. "The dress is beautiful," she murmured, because modesty became a lady and nobody liked a braggart.

"You," Eugene said, and he kissed her again on the forehead this time, before tilting her chin up to look at him. "Whatever you have been told, whatever you went through in that ghastly house of yours…here, Cinderella, you are loved. Never forget that."

"I never shall," Cinderella whispered breathlessly.

Eugene led her through the palace. Cinderella tried to memorise the route as she went along, acutely conscious of the fact that Eugene would not always make the climb all the way up the stairs to escort her down to dinner, and at some point she would be expected to learn where she was going. But the palace was so vast, and the corridors seemed to twist and turn so much, that it was hard to keep her bearings. And, with all due respect, so much of this place seemed the same. One set of portraits of proud, warlike royal ancestors looked much like another, to Cinderella at any rate, and the suits of armour were practically identical. It was very hard to make any particular note of the route when there was nothing to use as a landmark, and Cinderella half-despaired that she would ever learn where she was going throughout this place.

 _If only I had Jaq's sense of direction. He always seems to find his way around._

The thought almost stopped her in her tracks. It had been the first time in a few hours that she had thought about her friends, where they were, how they were getting on, and the realisation sent a pang of guilt shooting through her. _Some friend I am._

"Cinderella?" Eugene must have noticed her sudden pause. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing," Cinderella replied quickly, and hoped that it was not too quick. "I don't know what came over me, I am sorry."

They continued on a little way, down a corridor that ran past a row of windows, the heavy curtains already drawn to block out all but a sliver of the dying light, with candles supplying the illumination instead. There, at the head of another set of stairs, they were stopped again, not this time by any sudden thought of Cinderella's but by a black cat crossing their path.

It was a very ugly old tom, one that looked as though it had seen a few fights in its time, with one ear torn half to shreds and one eye covered by a scar. The other eye was green, and incredibly bright, so bright that it would have shone in the darkness if all the candles had been extinguished. He was big too, the size of a modest-sized dog. He looked as though he would have made Lucifer quake in fear at the very sight of him.

He glared balefully at Cinderella, and hissed at her, his black hairs standing on end as he sought to swell his considerable height still further.

Cinderella tightened her grip around Eugene's arm. "I don't think he likes me very much." _I wonder if he can smell the mouse on me._

Eugene placed a reassuring hand on top of hers, his grip firm but gentle at the same time. "He won't hurt you. Clear off, you!"

If the ugly tom had any fear of the prince he did not show it. Instead he gave a sound that was half yawn, half roar, and Cinderella heard his claws come out as he stretched at the head of the stairs.

"Off!" Eugene yelled. "Get out of the way."

The black cat glared at him, before turning away with ostentatious scorn and slinking off into the darkness.

Cinderella tried to adopt a light hearted tone. "Well, if the most unfriendly person so far is a cat I suppose I can't complain."

Eugene chuckled. "Come," he said. "We don't want to keep father waiting."

And so, at last, he led Cinderella through the final stages of their palace odyssey and into the great dining room, a room so vast that if you had taken Cinderella's old tower and laid it on upon its side then it would have fitted comfortably within the royal dining room. A dozen gallic windows of mottled glass opened out onto the gardens beyond, where the moonlight shone silver upon the trees and the shrubs, while the walls were a sort of golden colour, interspersed with crimson columns and bisected with white murals in relief of some sort of feast being served to people in antique seeming costumes.

The room was dominated by a massive table, long enough to seat a hundred people at least, with the light from the candles in the chandeliers above glinting off the champagne flutes and the silverware set at each place.

The ceiling was decorated with a painting of such beauty that Cinderella could not help but stare at it for a moment: people in the clouds, muscular men with their chests bare and beautiful women scantily clad to the preservation of the slightest degree of their modesty, dining on purple wine from golden cups, honey upon sticks and meat from the hide of a great hairy boar that lay upon a silver platter hovering in the sky. Cinderella had no idea what it meant, but she thought that it looked beautiful indeed.

The vast room was sparsely occupied: when Eugene led her inside there were only three other people there before them. One was His Majesty the King, gesturing with one meaty hand as she stood in conversation with His Grace. And then there was a third man, who was not joining in their conversation, but stood like some sort of sentinel over the table, with the other two and yet, at the same time, not.

As soon as they noticed Eugene and Cinderella come in, His Majesty and His Grace halted their conversation. "Ah, there you are!" His Majesty declared. "I was beginning to think that you had taken her for a more secluded rendezvous instead."

Cinderella felt her face flush, and there was nothing – or not much – feigned about her embarrassment this time as she looked away, down at the folds of her dress which she held in her free hand, to prevent from tripping over the hem.

Eugene sighed. "Please don't be vulgar, father."

"My son presumes to be a prude now that he is engaged," His Majesty muttered. But he must have noticed Cinderella's demeanour because he cleared his throat. "Cinderella, I do apologise if I have embarrassed you. It was not my intent to cause offence."

Cinderella looked up, and curtsied gently. "Thank you, Your Majesty, for a moment I feared that you thought me a-"

"No, no, girl, of course not," His Majesty declared peremptorily, waving his hands to urge them both forward. "Nothing of the sort, a mere poor jest. Come, come, let me look at you."

Eugene led Cinderella towards the head of the table, and then as they drew near the King he released her from his arm. Cinderella assumed a demure expression as she spread out her gown, displaying herself before His Majesty's gaze.

"Turn for me, please," His Majesty said, his voice grown soft, barely more than a whisper.

Obedient to his command, Cinderella twirled upon her toe, her skirt and petticoat rustling around her as she spun with the grace of a dancer.

She would almost have thought that there was a tear in his eye. "I look at that gown and I can still see my beloved wife as clear as day. You wear it very well, Cinderella, it suits you." He glanced away from her for a moment. "Olivier you know already, and this is…" he gestured at the third man.

"Colonel Etienne Gerard, ma'am, at your service," Etienne said, bowing to her from the waist at a shallow angle. He looked to be a little older than Eugene, with a face more lined and weathered by age, though it contrasted strangely with the long, tight braids in which he wore his dark hair, which reminded Cinderella more of her stepsister Drizella than anything else. He had a nose like the beak of a hawk, long and pointed, and it seemed to her that he was regarding her down it from out of his dark eyes. He was dressed in black, in some sort of uniform with so much gold brocade upon his chest that if she hadn't been able to see his arms Cinderella might not have realised that there was any black beneath it at all. His posture was rigid, and his hands were clasped behind his back.

"Etienne is my oldest and my dearest friend," Eugene explained. "And shall be best man at our wedding."

Cinderella smiled at him. "I am delighted to meet you, Etienne."

"Ma'am," Etienne replied, with a courtesy so chilly that Cinderella almost wanted to shiver.

"Now that we are all here," His Majesty said. "Sit down, everyone, sit down!"

Eugene pulled out a chair on the king's left hand. Cinderella sat down, and began to smooth out her skirt as Eugene pushed the chair in for her.

"Since my beloved Queen passed away, and during my son's long refusal to marry," His Majesty continued, glancing at his son for a moment as he took the seat at the very head of the great table. Eugene sat upon his right hand. His Grace took the seat to Eugene's right, while Etienne sat to the right of Cinderella. "I fear this palace has become the haunt of brutish men. We have been sorely lacking the civilising influence that only a woman's presence can provide."

"I will do my utmost to oblige, Your Majesty," Cinderella murmured.

As the soup was brought in, carried in a large silver serving dish by a servant who almost looked to be struggling with the weight, Cinderella made sure to keep her long lace cuffs tucked beneath the table, with only her bare forearms resting upon the white tablecloth. She did not dare risk spilling anything on this dress, and the lace cuffs, long as they were, would be especially vulnerable if she allowed herself to become careless.

The soup was served, thick and creamy and brown with the remains of its constituent vegetables floating in it. Cinderella raised her hand slightly to stop the man after a single ladleful had gone into her bowl. "That's quite enough, thank you."

Eugene's eyebrows rose. "You're not hungry, Cinderella?"

"Not particularly, no," Cinderella murmured. The truth was that she feared to eat too much lest she put on weight. She was under no illusions that, whatever else he might admire about her, whatever else he might love about her, it was her physical beauty that had drawn Eugene to her in the first place and was one of the principal things keeping him there. Much as she might affect an ignorance of her good looks, she knew how important they were to her; to importnat to be risked gorging herself on nightly banquets. So she would eat but a little from each dish, enough so as not to appear rude, and she would keep the figure that her prince admired.

"Apparently the Angevins may have experienced a renewal of fortune in their war," Etienne observed. "Mademoiselle, perhaps we should enter the fighting on thier side? Grab some of the glory while there is yet glory to be grabbed, what do you say?"

Had she been honest Cinderella would have said that she had little idea who the Angevins were - some people to the south, she thought - and no idea at all who they were fighting or why. But she dared not be honest about such a thing, dared not reveal her ignorance so brazenly, and so she said, "I am sure, sir, that war is never a thing to be sought after with eagerness."

"You are quite right, my dear," His Majesty declared. "Try telling that to a soldier, of course, but you are quite right. Those who go to war with light hearts ever regret it, and no glory won will balance out the suffering endured. Neutrality will serve us best."

Etienne's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and he inclined his head towards Cinderella. Then he said, "Mademoiselle Cinderella, what do you think of the demands of our colonies for greater autonomy of administration?"

"Etienne," Eugene's voice held a warning.

He was testing her now, Cinderella was certain of it. He was testing how much she knew, probing to see how much she did not know, possibly even trying to see how well she could disguise her ignorance, for Cinderella was ignorant, she did not even know the names of the colonies, let alone where they were or what sort of autonomy they wanted. Fortunately she remembered something that her father had told her once, and said, "I think, sir, that we must all of us strive to serve and obey the King, each of us according to our station and ability."

Etienne was smiling now, like a cat toying with a mouse. "And what of the Corn Laws? Ought we to lower our tariffs on imported grain?" His eyes challenged her to find a trite and cliched answer to that.

Cinderella smiled at him, hoping though at the same time doubting that it would meet her eyes even as she wondered why Eugene's great friend would treat her this way. "Forgive me, sir, but these are not women's matters. And so I leave them in the care of men, whom nature has suited to maintain them."

Etienne made a sound that was almost, if not quite, a chuckle, and bowed his head in apparent concession of the point.

"Etienne, that's enough," Eugene snapped, with evident anger.

Etienne bowed his head again. "I apologise, Your Highness, if I have overstepped. Mademoiselle."

"Colonel," Cinderella murmured in a most neutral tone.

Eugene reached out across the table, and gave her left hand a reassuring squeeze. His thumb stroked against her engagement ring for a moment, as if to remind her that it was there.

His eyes seemed to promise that everything would be alright. Cinderella hoped he was correct.

The rest of dinner passed with a somewhat chilly courtesy. Cinderella avoided looking at Etienne, but remained acutely conscious that he was looking at her. Eugene, on the other hand, glowered constantly at his oldest, dearest friend, so that one might have thought them bitter enemies instead. His Grace made polite conversation, but it was His Majesty who dominated the discussion in the room, proclaiming grand statements to which there was little to be done but to agree.

After dinner was concluded, Eugene led her out into the garden, where the moonlight shone down silver upon them as they walked down the gravel path, under the shadows of the quince trees towards the marble gazebo.

"I ought to apologise on behalf of Etienne," Eugene said. "I didn't know he was going to do that."

"It isn't your fault," Cinderella said softly. "I don't think he likes me very much either."

"I'm not sure what came over him," Eugene said. "He never…"

Cinderella turned as she climbed the steps into the gazebo. "He never what?"

Eugene shook his head. "Never mind. I just don't understand it."

"I'm afraid I do," Cinderella sighed, turning away from him for a moment to lean by her side against one of the tall marble columns. She folded her arms beneath her bust, making the lace cuffs rustle a little as she felt the cold gold of her engagement ring and the sharpness of the diamond and sapphires set in it upon her arm. "He thinks I'm stupid."

Cinderella felt Eugene place a hand upon her arm. "I don't believe that."

"He does."

"I don't care what he believes, he's an idiot."

Cinderella snorted. "Then why is he your best friend?"

"Because I was an idiot myself once, so we were two fools together."

Cinderella chuckled. She looked down at the ground, a few feet beneath where she stood perched on the gazebo edge. She reached down the played with her skirt, taking a fold of it between two fingers and moving it back and forth. "Would it matter if he was right?"

She felt Eugene's grip on her tighten. "I don't believe that you're stupid. I think you're simply uninformed."

"How can you tell?"

"Because that response was too well-calculated to shut him up for someone really stupid to have thought of."

Cinderella laughed. "You're too kind."

"No, I'm just naturally charming," Eugene said lightly. "Cinderella…you know you don't need to hide anything from me."

She glanced at him. "Who says I'm hiding anything?"

"You do, you've admitted as much," Eugene said. "There is nothing you could say that would make me turn away from you."

 _So you say when you haven't heard me say anything._ Cinderella smiled. "I think we should go back now. I'm a little tired."

Eugene nodded. "It has been a long day, hasn't it?"

Cinderella turned away from the pillar, to head back to the palace – and tripped over the hem of her dress. One foot slipped off the gazebo, and Cinderella felt herself tottering off the edge of it sideways, her arms flailing as she opened her mouth to-

Eugene caught her, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her in like a fisherman with his catch, holding her round the waist with his other hand as he held her close to him. "I've got you."

Cinderella rested her head against his chest – in flat shoes, as she was now, he was more than a head taller than her – feeling the rhythm of his breathing as she almost burrowed up against him. "Of course you did. You're my prince."

Eugene laughed. "Meaning?"

Cinderella's eyes flickered upwards to glance at him. "That's one of the ways that you know you're in love. You're true prince will always save you, even if he has to risk himself to do it."

"It was only a slip off a gazebo," Eugene said, with mirth in his voice.

"That doesn't matter," Cinderella whispered. "No matter what it was, I know you'd keep me safe. I am safe, with you."

He hugged her, wrapping his strong arms around her and holding her close. "Yes, Cinderella, you are. And always will be."

* * *

The mouse found her that night, when she was alone, before she summoned Marie-Elise to help her get ready for bed. They climbed out from a hole near one of the legs of the dressing table, scrambling up the claw feet to line the white surface in front of the gild edged mirror, filling the room with their loud salutations.

Cinderella smiled down at all of them. "Oh, you're here! You found me!"

"Wesa always find Cinderelly," Jaq said. He took a deep breath. "Lotta long way up though."

"Long long long way," Gus agreed. He was still sweating and panting from the exertion.

Cinderella giggled. "Yes, it is a high tower, isn't it? Spare a thought for me, I don't have the luxury of being able to climb straight up through the wall. Have you found somewhere to live?"

"Yep yep, Cinderelly, real nice place, just above the kitchen," Jaq said.

"Real real nice," Gus agreed.

"Nice and warm and dry and cosy, Cinderelly," said Suzy.

"Oh, I'm so glad," Cinderella said. "I'd have you all up here, you know I would, but…" she hesitated. "I just arrived here, I…I don't want Eugene or anyone else to think that I'm…strange. Oh, that sounds terrible, doesn't it? I'm so sorry."

"Notta problem," Jaq said dismissively, waving off her attempts to apologise. "Cinderelly gonna marry a prince, Cinderelly gonna be a princess now. Cinderelly have things she gotta do. Cinderelly taken care of mice for years, Jaq-Jaq's turn to take care of mice now."

"You took care of me plenty of times as well," Cinderella said. "And so, although we may not be able to spend as much time together as we used to, if you ever need anything I want you to know that you can still come to me for help. Oh, which reminds me. I saw a very nasty looking black cat in the palace today, and I think he could smell you on me and he didn't like it, so be careful."

"Wesa seen him too, Cinderelly," Jaq said. "He look real mean, and real trouble. We gonna stay clear of him."

"I'm glad you agree with me," Cinderella said. "I'm sure he has his good points, but…I wouldn't want you to rely on them." She reached down to scratch Bruno, her dog, behind the ears. He almost seemed to smile as he put his head in her lap. "And that means you, too, Bruno. That cat looked like a lot too handle, too much even for you maybe."

Bruno's smile faded and he looked affronted instead, making some sort of grumbling noise.

"Yes, I know you're still brave and energetic," Cinderella told him. "But you're also kind and gentle, and not as young as you were. I don't want you getting hurt. Just take it easy, now that you've made it to the palace."

"Yeah, the palace! What it like here, Cinderelly?" Mary asked.

"Well, it hasn't been perfect," Cinderella said, thinking of Etienne Gerard. "But, oh, so many people have been so kind to me. And I'm to have the most beautiful dress to wear to my wedding, and you can see what His Majesty gave me to wear to dinner." She got up from her stool and twirled for the mice. "Isn't it lovely? And I have maids and all of these rooms and so much room in the wardrobe and…" Cinderella clasped her hands together sighed the sigh of heavenly contentment. "And he loves me. He really loves me and he's so handsome and charming and considerate and he asked me to marry him and I said yes and we'll be wed and I'll be his bride and…oh, I can't imagine anything that could be more, more wonderful." She sighed again as she sat down. "And we'll live happily ever after, I know we will." She smiled as she picked up the invitation. "This is one of the invitations for our wedding. They let me take one." Cinderella cleared her throat. "Dear…they haven't put a name on this one. You are cordially invited to attend the wedding of His Royal Highness Eugene, Prince of Rennes, and Mademoiselle Cinderella Tremaine to take place in Saint Mark's Cathedral at…Mademoiselle Cinderella Tremaine. That's me! I'm to marry the prince in the grand cathedral! Can you imagine such a thing!"

"You deserve it, Cinderelly," declared the ever loyal Jaq.

"Do I?" Cinderella asked. "I don't know. But this is me, this is my life now, and I intend to enjoy it. After all, it's what I've always dreamed of."

* * *

"You've got a nerve," Eugene growled as he entered his bedroom to find Etienne waiting for him, leaning against one of the bed posts with his arms folded.

If Etienne took note of Eugene's evident anger then he gave no sign of it. His expression continued to be one of insouciance. "You're upset-"

"I'm feeling more than a little upset with you," Eugene snapped, shrugging off his jacket. His valet, Planchet, took the coat and hung it by the door. He would doubtless take it off somewhere and clean it once he had helped Eugene to bed. "What were you playing at?"

"I wanted to see what kind of person she was," Etienne replied.

"By giving her a test? Good god, man, we're not at school any more," Eugene shouted. He hesitated. "What was your conclusion?"

"She failed," Etienne said bluntly.

Eugene took a deep breath. "Planchet, give us the room, if you please."

Planchet bowed. "Of course, sir." He left with as much haste as he could muster while still retaining his dignity as a manservant. He closed the door behind him.

"What do you mean she failed?" Eugene demanded. "Explain quickly, before I decide to throw you out of this room. Possibly by a window."

A smirk played across Etienne's face. "She isn't good enough for you."

"And who are you to decide what is and is not good enough for me."

"I'm who I've always been: your best friend, the only person who can talk to you this way," Etienne said. He peeled himself off the post, squaring up against Eugene. "I'm sure she's a lovely girl, but she doesn't deserve to be the princess of this country and she doesn't deserve to be your wife."

"Because she didn't answer a few questions to your satisfaction?"

"Because she didn't have any answers, she didn't understand the questions," Etienne replied. "That line about not being women's matters was well done, I admit, but you and I both know that it was just an attempt to cover the fact that she hadn't a clue what to say. How is someone like that going to help you rule this country?"

"Give Cinderella a break, she's been a servant half her life, how can you expect her to understand economics or foreign policy?"

"I can expect her to understand these things because she'll have to," Etienne said. "And I'm not sure she can."

"Ignorance doesn't equal stupidity," Eugene said.

"Maybe not, but it isn't a good start," Etienne replied. He shook his head, making his cadenettes sway. "I just don't understand it. Why her? I look at her and I think that Isabelle was more beautiful. I listen to her and I think that Helene was more intelligent by far and Marie had far more of worldly wisdom in her. I see the way she behaves and I think that Juliet had a sweeter nature."

"You've seen her for a couple of hours."

"Of course, of course, how could I make such a rash judgement," Etienne said. "I bow to the vastness of the four hours you spent with her last night before you declared you'd marry none but her."

"I think she's perfect."

"Perfect!" Etienne very nearly laughed, but seemed to recognise that he would go too far if he did. "You speak of perfect? Katharine-"

"We do not speak of Katharine," Eugene snapped coldly. "Not now, not ever."

Etienne's mouth tightened. "As you say, I apologise."

"You are wrong, about Cinderella," Eugene said. "You are dead wrong, and she will prove you wrong herself, I guarantee it."

"I do hope so," Etienne murmured.

"And now I think you'd better leave," Eugene said. "And hope that I've calmed down by morning."

Etienne bowed. "An honour to serve, Your Highness."

* * *

In the dark of the night, the candles burned in Mademoiselle Adessi's Dressmakers for Ladies of Quality, a little shop on Larson Street with a new blue sign hanging over the window, and a door that customers of greater than average height had to stoop a little to get in. The shop was closed now, thick green curtains drawn across the windows so that only a flicker of a glow escaped into the street beyond, but in the back rooms of the shop the candles burned as Lucrecia worked.

She hummed as she worked, wrapping the fabric around the mannequin, cutting, sewing, measuring. She hummed as she took silk and thread and turned it into art that would adorn a soon-to-be princesses body, and make a beautiful girl even more beautiful.

"Mow." Penelope, Lucrecia's cat, meowed plaintively as she brushed her fur up against her mistress ankle.

Lucrecia took no notice, preoccupied with her work and the tune she was humming as she practiced her craft.

"Mow," Penelope repeated her call, more insistently this time, sitting down next to Lucrecia and looking up at her with imploring eyes.

Lucrecia glanced down at her faithful grey companion. "What is it, darling? What do you want?"

"Mow." Penelope opened her mouth wide and pointed down her throat with one paw.

Lucrecia rolled her eyes. "You've just had your dinner. You can't still be hungry."

"Mow." Penelope pointed down her throat again.

Lucrecia sighed. "Very well, I'll make you a late supper before I turn in. But you'll have to wait until I'm finished, I promised Cinderella at least one dress for tomorrow, and I have lots of work to do on her wedding gown."

Penelope tilted her head to one side.

"Oh, and she's such a gorgeous creature. The kind of model that a dressmaker would sell their left hand for. Slender, curves in the right places, flawless skin. A perfect dress will only look perfect if a perfect girl is wearing it, as Master Cosimo used to say, and she is perfect." She smiled. "And so when they see her wearing my creations, they will see that my dresses are perfect too. Can't you just see it, Penelope: Lucrecia Adessi, by royal appointment dressmaker to Her Royal Highness, Princess Cinderella." She chuckled. "Now won't that just have every lady in the court bursting through my door. They say she was a servant, you know. Never before has one of her class risen so high."

Lucrecia looked up at the dress she was working on. "And through her meteoric rise, I'll ensure my own."


	3. Serene and Graceful

Serene and Graceful

Cinderella was awoken by the sound of tapping on the gallic window.

 _Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap._

Cinderella murmured indistinctly as her eyes fluttered open and she pushed her head off a pillow that was almost, but not quite, too plump to be comfortable. Her hair – she had not bothered to braid it before she went to bed tonight, a decision she might regret when she came to comb it – fell down around her face, and she brushed it over her shoulders as she sat up in bed.

 _Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap._

There it was again. The same sound that had roused her from sleep beckoning from outside the window. Which was strange, because it was a balcony outside at the top of an enormous tower.

Cinderella frowned a little as she threw off the luxurious sheets and swung her feet out of bed. Slipping on a pair of soft slippers, she padded over the absorbent pink carpet – Bruno stirred slightly where he sat at the foot of the bed, but did not wake up - and threw open the heavy scarlet drapes that kept the room in darkness, obscuring all light from entering the room.

Cinderella shut her eyes against the sudden brightness as light flooded the room. Bruno snuffled as he was rudely disturbed from his rest. And outside, a pair of bluebirds in jackets and little hats twittered happily as they flew up and down in front of the window.

Cinderella laughed as a glad smile illuminated her face. "It's you! You found me!"

The birds twittered some more.

Cinderella shook her head. "Yes, of course you did, how foolish of me. Now stand back." The birds retreated a little, still chirruping, as Cinderella pushed the gallic windows open, striding out onto the balcony as the two birds flew back towards her full of glad tidings and joy of the dawn.

Cinderella laughed as they flew all around her, as they flew so close that they disturbed her hair with their passing, circling round and round her singing in happiness.

"Yes, it is a lovely morning, isn't it?" Cinderella said. She spread her arms out wide like a dancer as she twirled on the balcony, coming to a stop at the rail on which she sat down, resting her hands gently on the cold white stone. "A lovely start to a lovely day in a lovely life."

The little bluebirds chirruped as they landed on the rail beside her.

"Yes, it's been wonderful so far," Cinderella replied, a fond smile upon her face. "Eugene – that's his name – is so kind and generous and handsome and…oh, I love him so much. And we're to be married and I'll be his princess and we'll live happily and…and almost everyone has been so nice to me."

The bluebirds chirped, as Bruno padded out onto the balcony with a foolish-fond expression on his face and put his head in Cinderella's lap. Jaq and Gus followed him, the latter still yawning and with bleary eyes as he stumbled along in the wake of his more slender friend.

"Yes, it does sound perfect, doesn't it," Cinderella murmured, looking down at Bruno as she stroked him softly, running her hand down his back. "But, no, it hasn't been completely perfect. But, I can't complain can I?"

The birds made what could only be described as protesting noises.

"Oh, it doesn't matter," Cinderella said. "Look at where I am now, look inside. You should have seen the dress that I wore to dinner last night. You should see how Eugene treats me. You should have been there when Lucrecia and I were talking about my wedding dress. Compared to all of that…little things don't matter."

The birds would not let the matter rest, and made sure she knew it.

Cinderella shook her head. "Well, if you must know, I don't think that Eugene's friend likes me very much. I don't think he believes that I'm smart enough to be a good princess."

"What? He not like Cinderelly?" Gus cried, outrage seeming to rouse him from his torpor. "Tell us who he is, Cinderelly, Gus-Gus a'show him!"

Cinderella chuckled. "That's very kind of you, Gus."

"Cinderelly brave and kind and pretty and pretty smart too," Jaq declared. "Anybody saying different be crazy!"

"If compliments were richest I would be the wealthiest girl in the world because of your friendship," Cinderella murmured. "But the truth is…the truth is that it isn't Etienne Gerard who is really bothering me."

"Something wrong, Cinderelly?" Jaq asked.

"Not wrong exactly, but…" Cinderella hesitated. "I don't know how much of me to show Eugene."

"Whaddya mean, Cinderelly?"

Cinderella sighed. "When I was at the ball I was so sophisticated. I looked the part, I played the part. I looked, I danced, I behaved like the perfect lady. And that's who he fell in love with."

"Cinderelly is perfect lady," Gus said staunchly.

"You're very sweet," Cinderella said. "And I'm not saying that I wasn't myself that night…but that was only part of myself. There's another part of me as well…and I don't know whether he'll want to see it; whether it would be too common for him."

"Princey love alla Cinderelly, no doubt."

"Oh, I'd love to think so, I really would," Cinderella said. "I just don't know if I dare put it to the test or not."

As if she had conjured it by a magic spell, there was a soft knock upon the bedroom door, and Eugene's voice came in from outside. "Cinderella? Are you awake?"

Cinderella shot to her feet, gesturing with her hands for the mice and the birds to hide. _I love you all,_ she mouthed, as Jaq and Gus scurried back into the hole they had emerged from and the bluebirds soared away towards the sun.

Cinderella smoothed out the folds in her nightgown. "Yes, I'm up. Come in."

Eugene opened the door and walked in, only his legs and his head visible. His body was obscured by a trio of large boxes he was carrying in his arms. As he deposited the boxes on Cinderella's bed he said, "You're awake early."

"So are you, clearly."

"Yes, I suppose so," Eugene said. "Enjoying the morning?"

Cinderella looked out across the vast expanse of land that lay beneath her: the fields, all divided by hedgerows, the ploughed and tilled earth, the sprawling forests, the glistening rivers. From here she could see the farmers already hard at work, see the goats and the sheep being driven down the roads, see everything as though she were the only real person in the world looking down at an elaborate model made by some master craftsman. She could see the winding streets of the capital, she could see the houses and the shops, she could see the great cathedral and the crowds already beginning to form in the town squares.

Until yesterday, she could have looked out of her bedroom window and see the palace rising up into the sky, a magnificent edifice in shimmering white. It had been so large, loomed so over everything else. Now, from her new bedroom in that self same palace, she could look out and see everything the palace had loomed over. She could even see her stepmother's chateau…but it seemed so small now, it seemed as though she could almost reach out and pick it up. Was it possible that something so small could have bound her whole life up within its walls? And how was she now to expand so small a life to fill up this much vaster space?

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" she murmured.

Eugene came to stand beside her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Yes. Our land. Our country. Our burden."

Cinderella looked up at him. "Burden?"

"Armorique is ours," Eugene said. "From the rocky coasts to Normandie in the west and Anjou to the south. We have to guard it, to rule it well, to be good stewards of it for all who live in it. And beyond, of course, there are our imperial possessions across the sea to think of. If I did not feel it as a burden…I would not be worthy to inherit my father's throne when the time comes."

"Not for a long time yet," Cinderella murmured.

"No, God willing," Eugene replied. He kissed her on the forehead. "But enough of such grim talk. Time enough for that after the wedding."

"I don't mind," Cinderella said. "If there is anything you want to say, I will listen; even if you cannot say it to anyone else."

Eugene shook his head. "The burden is not so heavy at present. The realm is at peace, the people are content, and I hope that even our colonists will calm down soon enough. If not…never mind that. I didn't come here to discuss such things."

"Why did you come?" Cinderella asked. "Why were you up so early?"

"I was practicing my swordplay," Eugene said. "I like to get a bit done in the early light, when not so many people might be watching. People seem to think that if they praise my skill it will get them something that they want. Flattery is the bane of princes."

 _If ever there was a prince who deserved to be flattered, it is you,_ Cinderella thought, but did not say it unless he thought that she was one of those selfsame flatterers.

"As I was finishing I caught your dressmaker delivering these to the palace," Eugene said. "The poor woman must have worked through the night."

"Yes," Cinderella said. "I hope that she doesn't feel like I'm imposing on her." After all the times that she had been forced to push herself past the brink of exhaustion to serve the whims of her stepmother and stepsisters, she would have hated to think that it had taken her less than a day in the palace to become exactly that kind of tyrant herself.

"I made sure to tip her generously for her hard work," Eugene said. "And she seemed very enthusiastic. Honestly, I think she was a little disappointed that she wouldn't be here to see how they would be received, but, well, I wanted to see you myself."

Cinderella chuckled as she allowed Eugene to steer her inside from the balcony.

He gestured at the boxes on her bed. "Aren't you going to open them? One, at least?"

Cinderella hesitated, torn between the fact that she obviously should open at least one of them, and what she might find if she did. Lucrecia had been so kind, disarmingly so, that Cinderella had not kept up the pretence with her that she, perhaps, ought to have done. She was a little worried that Eugene might discover that there were sides to her that were not as sophisticated as the princess at the ball that he had fallen in love with, that she was also the girl who adored bows and frills and ribbons in her hair, that there was a side that had enjoyed, almost alone amongst her many chores, caring for the animals in her charge, feeding them and looking after them.

Still, there was no getting around it. She opened the top bow, untying the velvet ribbon wrapped around it like a gift, and opened the white box.

A pink dress lay inside, looking even from the outside perfectly tailored to her curves, with capped sleeves and an ankle length skirt and a single layer of white petticoat beneath. It was plain, as she might have expected from one of three dresses created in a single night, with the fabric clean and devoid of any decoration. Only a white sash around the waist, tied into a bow at the front, offered any kind of additional decoration whatsoever.

"What do you think?"

Cinderella thought it looked lovely. Yes, it was plain, but it had that white sash to give it just the little touch it needed to save it from being plain, and the petticoat would give the skirt a little shape, and it wasn't a ballgown of course, but it would be perfect for the day time.

But it was also a very simple dress, and not terribly sophisticated. The kind of dress that a country squire's daughter might wear, and Eugene might not want to marry a country squire's daughter.

She glanced up from the dress. "What do you think of it?"

"That hardly matters, does it, it isn't my dress?" Eugene said, with amusement in his voice. He stepped closer to her. "Cinderella, is something wrong?"

"No," Cinderella said quickly. "Why would anything be wrong? What makes you say such a thing?"

"You," Eugene said. "I…sometimes I get the feeling that you're hiding things from me."

"Why?"

"Well, you've admitted you're hiding at least one thing from me," Eugene reminded her. "How you managed to get such a dress for the ball, and wear it is now."

Cinderella bowed her head. "Yes, yes, I am, aren't I?"

She felt Eugene's fingers upon her chin, tilting it upwards, forcing to her look into his handsome face, into those deep brown eyes. "You don't have to be afraid of me, Cinderella. You don't have to hide from me, and only show those parts you think that I'll approve of."

Cinderella took hold of his hand, and moved it up her face so that instead of holding onto her chin his palm was resting on her cheek instead. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of his hand upon her face, feeling his fingers running through her hair.

"How do you like my hair," she murmured.

"Cinderella?"

"How do you prefer it?" she asked again, opening her eyes. "Like this…or more like this?" she pulled her hair up onto the top of her head, in a crude approximation of the gallic twist in which her fairy godmother had styled it, and while Marie-Elise had replicated for dinner last night. "Or something else?"

"Up, I suppose," Eugene said. "But why?"

"And if I didn't?" Cinderella said. "If I mostly preferred to wear it loose like this, or in a ponytail, or with a bow holding it back. What if I didn't always want to dress like a princess?"

"Is that what has been worrying you?" Eugene asked. "Is that…" he laughed. "Cinderella, it would take far more than that…dress as you like, wear your hair how you like. Yes, there will be some occasions where you have to look a certain way but, for the most part, so long as you are happy then that is my only concern."

Cinderella sighed with relief. It seemed so foolish now, in the retrospect of only a moment, but it had bothered her so much. He had only seen her one way, and had fallen in love with her on account of that one way…so it had made sense to her that if saw her in a different way then he might not feel the same way about her. But Jaq had been right, and she had been wrong, and she could the weight lifting off of her already. "Thank you."

"For what?" Eugene asked. "You may have to dress up a bit this afternoon, though."

"Why?"

"The Daily Courier is coming to speak to us both," Eugene said. "I'm afraid that you have a rather busy day today."

Cinderella took Eugene's hand away from her face, holding it in her own. "Me?"

"This morning, the Breton Gazette is sending a man to speak to you," Eugene said. "And then after that a number of young noble ladies are due at the palace to meet you for tea around eleven. And then I'll join you to speak to the Courier."

"This isn't much notice, is it?"

Eugene squeezed her hand as he said, "I understand, but I didn't know myself. Father made the arrangements without consulting me."

"I don't really understand why they're all coming," Cinderella murmured. "I mean, I'm just-"

"The girl I'm going to marry," Eugene said. "You may not want to dress like a princess all the time, but you will be a princess from the day we wed until the day you become queen. For the newspapers that makes you a story, particularly as nobody knows anything about you. And for the noblewomen, well, some of them will end up serving you in due course, and you'll have to see them all fairly often. This is a chance for you to get to know each other."

"Of course," Cinderella said. She thought about the possibility of making some friends for the first time since her father had died, and her world had shrunk to her stepfamily the occasional shopkeepers with whom she was forced to deal. It would be nice to have someone she could confide in, besides Eugene or Jaq or Gus. It would be nice to have a friend or two with whom she could discuss things as women. She had never really known that before, even when her father was alive. It would be good if she could have it now. The prospect brought a smile to her face. "I'm looking forward to that the most."

"Then you have a good sense of which of these things deserves to be looked forward to," Eugene said.

"Is there anything else I should know?"

"Do you know anything about the newspapers?"

"Not really," Cinderella admitted. "I think my stepfamily read the Gazette. It has society gossip in, doesn't it?"

"Some, yes," Eugene said. "It's rather a rag, to be honest, but it has the highest circulation of any paper in the country, so we have to read what they're saying and even talk to them from time to time. Wearing something a little less elaborate will help, actually, they'll like you better if you seem more of the people. The Courier, on the other hand, doesn't sell so many copies, but those that it does sell are ready by wealthier, better educated people. That's why I think you should dress up a little for them, so that you seem a good fit for your new position."

"I'm going on show, aren't I?" Cinderella said.

"I'm afraid that we royals are always on show, my dear," Eugene said.

"And how should I dress for the noblewomen?"

"That, I'm afraid, is entirely up to you."

* * *

"Thank you for agreeing to speak to me, mademoiselle," the correspondent for the Gazette declared as he offered her a sweeping bow. "It will gladden the hearts of all my readers to know that one so high is willing to address my humble daily." The correspondent, a Monsieur Valis, was a rather short man, with dark hair that was unfortunately greasy looking, and starting to thin on top. His eyes were small, his nose was large, and when he took Cinderella's hand and kissed it he ended up slobbering on her knuckles a little.

Still, Cinderella was not a person to make much of such things, and so she smiled kindly at him. "Oh, you don't need to be so formal, Monsieur Valis, I'm not a princess yet. I'm simply Mademoiselle Cinderella, as the wedding invitations say, and no better than you are."

"Oh, but you are to be royal, mademoiselle, that makes so much difference," Valis declared. "It is best if your relationship begins on the footing on which it will continue, wouldn't you agree?"

"I suppose," Cinderella murmured. "But won't you please sit down?"

"You are as generous as you are beautiful, mademoiselle."

"Thank you, monsieur," Cinderella said as she sat down on a plush green settee opposite the reporter. She smoothed out her skirt with her hands – being careful not to get any of Monsieur Valis' saliva on her skirt – and rested her fingertips primly upon her knee. Her hair was worn in a low ponytail, held back by a pink ribbon tied into a bow. "I'm afraid I've never done this before, so I've no idea what is supposed to happen."

"It's very simple, mademoiselle," Valis said. "I will ask a few questions, you will answer them, and then I will write up your answers and my impressions into an article to be published tomorrow."

"So quickly?"

"It is a daily newspaper."

"Of course," Cinderella said. "So, what would you like to ask me?"

"It is not I who is asking, mademoiselle, but the whole nation," Valis declared dramatically. "Since the news of this engagement broke yesterday, all of Armorique has been abuzz with the glad news that our prince is to wed, and consumed with curiousity at the identity of his bride. Who is this girl, the people cry, who is to marry our beloved prince? Who is this mysterious mademoiselle who has stolen the heart of the heir to the throne?"

Cinderella chuckled. "You're making me seem so much more exciting than I am."

"Bore me with the truth then, mademoiselle, if you would be so kind. Perhaps we could begin with your family?"

"Very well," Cinderella said. "My father was Monsieur Nicholas Tremaine, and my mother was Tatiana Tremaine, though she died when I was very young. My father died when I was ten."

"Tremaine," Valis murmured. "Are you, perchance, related to Lady Tremaine, and to her daughters Mademoiselles Drizella and Anastasia?"

"Yes, Lady Tremaine is my stepmother," Cinderella said. "And Anastasia and Drizella are my stepsisters. My father married Stepmother when I was nine, he wanted me to have a mother again."

Monsieur Valis' eyebrows furrowed. "You will forgive me, Mademoiselle, but as the gazette's correspondent for royalty and high society I am not unacquainted with the Tremaine family. Your stepsisters regularly attend dances and galas, your stepmother is not a novel sight at soirees…and yet I have never before heard of a Cinderella Tremaine. Why is it that you have never been seen in society before?"

Cinderella hesitated. "Well…Monsieur you mustn't think that I'm telling you all of this because I want to embarrass my stepmother."

"I only ask the truth, mademoiselle."

Cinderella nodded. "After my father died, I became a servant for my stepfamily. Anastasia and Drizella had the nice clothes, the lessons in courtesy and music and so forth, and I kept the house clean and made sure the fires were warm and so on."

"You became their maid?"

"Yes."

"Interesting," Valis murmured, scribbling furiously in his notebook with a charcoal pencil. "You honoured, to have gone from serving girl to princess."

"I'm not a princess yet," Cinderella reminded him. "But yes, I'm very conscious of how lucky I am."

"Do you think you can bring a unique perspective on the common people into the palace?"

"I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"Surely you would agree that you, as a result of your past, are closer to the struggles of ordinary people than His Majesty or His Highness."

"I suppose so," Cinderella murmured.

"Do you intend to be a voice for the common people in the councils of the high?"

"I wasn't aware that they needed one," Cinderella said.

"I see," Valis said. "Where you let out of the house much when you were a servant to your stepfamily?"

"I did the shopping," Cinderella said. "But I could never stay too long, I always had to get back and finish my chores." She had never really had time to have long conversations even with the friendlier shopkeepers. She had never been able to just stare at the dresses in the windows of the dressmakers, or the necklaces and earrings on display in the jewellers' shops, and wonder what it might be like to wear beautiful clothes and fine jewellery. She would have done both, if she had been given the chance, but Stepmother had always punished her for tardiness, especially if she slacked off to idle time away in town. In fact, she generally found that she had to make haste just to meet her stepmother's strict timekeeping.

"So you are not, how can I say, well socialised?"

"I don't have many friends," Cinderella admitted.

Valis wrote that down as well. "So, Mademoiselle, after this tale that is not at all dull in spite of your protests, how did you end up catching His Highness' heart?"

Cinderella smiled. "At the ball. I wasn't even looking in his direction and then I felt this touch upon my hand. I turned around…and there he was, the most…fortunately he turned out to be as taken with me as I was with him."

"What girl would not be taken with the heir to throne?"

"I didn't know that at the time," Cinderella said. "I only found out he was a prince the morning after. Before that…he was just a wonderful man."

"And how was a servant girl admitted to a royal ball in the first place."

"I wasn't dressed like a servant, obviously."

"You were allowed a dress for the occasion?"

"Not exactly," Cinderella said. "I…I'm afraid that that is my secret, monsieur."

"As you wish, Mademoiselle," Valis said, smiling at her. "And thank you for your time."

"Is that it?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle," he declared. "I think I've got everything I need."

After that, it was time to prepare for the arrival of the young noblewomen. A liveried servingman ushered Cinderella into a spacious sitting room, with antique chairs with well-stuffed cushions, all set around a wide table on which more servants were busy laying out tea and cakes. Cinderella tried to help until they made it politely clear that her help was not required, and so she was stuck essentially watching other people work until she heard a cheery voice calling from just outside the room.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I frightfully early? I see that I'm the first to arrive."

Cinderella looked at the gilded clock on the mantelpiece. The time was half-past ten.

"Yes, I'm afraid you are a little early," she murmured.

"Terribly sorry," a young woman said as she breezed into the sitting room. "I'm afraid I've no head at all for this sort of thing. And besides, I was just so eager." The woman who strode in with all the self-confidence of a queen was about Cinderella's own age, a little taller than Cinderella but not by too much, with medium-length black hair worn in ringlets down the side of a beautiful, finely featured face. She was dressed in white, a loose gown with a sharply descending neckline that hung easily from her shoulders, nipped in at the waist with the help of a silver belt to display her excessively thin waist. Her hips swayed as she walked. Her lips were crimson, framing a smile of brilliant white, and her green eyes seemed to smoulder a little, even as they sparkled with happiness. She wore no necklace, nor any jewellery on her wrists, but she did have a silver circlet set in her hair, and a string of pearls dangling from each ear that rippled a little with every step she took.

"Now, I don't think I've ever seen you before, so you must be Cinderella, yes."

"Yes, my lady," Cinderella said gripping the folds of her pink dress between her fingertips as she curtsied.

"Oh, good heavens, darling, you don't need to do that!"

"But-"

"You're marring the prince. That gives you a leg up on me whatever the titles say," the other young lady said. "Oh, but listen to me, I haven't even introduced myself yet. Serena de Montcalm. Lady Serena de Montcalm if you want to be all formal, but I'm not my father to insist on such things. Please, darling, call me Serena."

"Only if you'll call me Cinderella."

"I would be delighted," Serena said. "Cinderella. Such a pretty name."

"Do you think so?" Cinderella asked. She had always liked her name, but her stepsisters had made fun of it more than once.

"I do," Serena declared. "A pretty name for a very pretty girl. Turn around for me, won't you, you look so lovely."

"Really?" Cinderella said, feeling herself start to blush a little as she looked down at her dress. "It's a very simple dress."

"But so pretty, it suits you so well," Serena said. "Please, Cinderella, twirl for me."

Cinderella was definitely blushing now, but it didn't really bother her as she grinned. "Oh, all right," she twirled on the toe of her pink slippers like a ballerina, feeling her ponytail bounce as she swirled and her skirt and petticoat rustle as she moved with a most wonderful sound.

Serena clapped her hands together. "Oh, you're absolutely adorable, especially when you smile. Oh, yes, I can see why Eugene can't wait to marry you. How old are you, Cinderella?"

"I'm nineteen."

"Nineteen? Goodness, where has your father been hiding you that you and I have never met before?"

"My father died," Cinderella murmured. "Several years ago."

Serena's face fell. "Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's quite alright, I understand," Cinderella said quickly. "Please, I'm not upset."

"If you say so, darling," Serena said. "So who has been looking after you and why haven't they let you out of the house to shine until now? You ought to be the talk of every salon in this city, the brightest star in gay society, so why are you such a mystery to me. I got your wedding invitation and I said to my brother 'Cinderella Tremaine? Who is she?' I know that if I'd only seen you once then I would remember you."

"Well, it's…oh, I'm sure you'd be bored to hear about it-"

"Nonsense," Serena said. "Nonsense. You and I are going to be great friends, I can tell. And what do friends do? Why they share one another's secrets." She took Cinderella by the arm, and steered her to a settee with only two seats, setting Cinderella down on one before she took the other. "Now sit down, and tell me all about-"

"Excuse me," a gorgeous golden haired girl said as she pressed her head around the door. "I know that I'm early but- Serena!"

"Grace," Serena said evenly. "What a pleasure to see you."

"Likewise," Grace drawled as she walked into the room. Her hair was pinned into a wide bun at the nape of her neck, expanding out to be nearly the width of her shoulders, with bangs elegantly combed over the right side of her face, nearly but not quite obscuring one eye. She was dressed in turquoise, with blue slippers peaking out from beneath the hem of her flowing dress, and a single string of diamonds sparkled around her neck.

"Cinderella," Serena said. "Allow me to present Lady Grace du Villeroi, Grace, this is Cinderella, our future queen."

Cinderella rose to her feet. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Grace spread her arms out wide as she curtsied. "Majesty."

"Oh, please don't," Cinderella said. "It's quite unnecessary."

Grace looked up. "Oh, I'm well aware that you're not royalty yet. I was giving way, as the lesser beauty to the greater."

Cinderella looked away. "Oh, please, stop it, both of you."

"Why? It's not as if you have anything to be ashamed of," Serena said. "Isn't she a beauty, Grace?"

"Fit to outshine the sun."

"And Cinderella was just about to tell me how she has managed to reach nineteen years and to avoid becoming as famous a beauty as she deserves to be," Serena said. "Come, Cinderella, sit down."

"No, don't sit there," Grace protested. "If you do that then I shan't be able to sit beside you. I shall be exiled to one of these other chairs."

"It's not as if you're being sent to the colonies, Grace."

"Yes, but why should you be able to sit with Cinderella when I can't?" Grace said, with a pout of her lips. "I want to sit with Cinderella."

"How about that settee?" Cinderella asked, gesturing to a red settee with three seats. "Then we can all sit together."

"Beautiful and as wise as Solomon," Grace declared. "What a treat our country is in for." She took Cinderella by the other arm and led her – pulling Serena, still holding onto Cinderella on the other side, along with her – to the other settee, where they sat down with Cinderella in the middle, Serena on her right and Grace on her left.

"Now, barring another interruption," Serena said, then glanced briefly at the open doorway. "You were about to tell me everything."

"Only now you can tell me as well," Grace said.

Cinderella told them as much of the truth as she had told Eugene, leaving out anything about talking mice, magic or fairy godmothers. She told them about her stepmother and her stepsisters, about how they had destroyed her first dress, but she left out just how she had managed to get hold of another dress in time to make it to the ball. And then she told them about how she had met Eugene, not knowing who he was, and how he had made her heart sing with delight at his presence at how she had fallen in love with him, and how she couldn't imagine marrying anyone else.

Serena sighed. "So romantic. It is so wonderful to be in love, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes, yes it is, without a doubt," Cinderella said. "I can't…I feel as thought I wasn't really living before I met Eugene."

"You weren't, really, were you," Grace said. "To think that Anastasia and Drizella could do such a thing. If it were possible I would be even colder towards them than I have been before now."

One of things that had surprised Cinderella as she told her story was that Serena and Grace, like Monsieur Valis, both knew Anastasia and Drizella. Apparently they were quite well known for all the parties they attended, as well as for their relentless pursuit of good marriages.

Both Serena and Grace had come close to being cruel in their comments about her stepfamily, with Serena laughing at how Anastasia and Drizella had a new dress each for every party and not one of them could change the fact that they looked hideous.

"Now, now, Serena, let's be fair, the light is never quite right to show them in their best advantage," Grace said. "It's not their fault that none of us light our houses to achieve the stygian gloom that would make them look good."

Cinderella frowned. "Please don't say things like that. I know that they're not very nice, but I don't think that makes it right to talk about them like that when they aren't here."

"Of course not, I'm so sorry," Serena said. "Please, forgive me."

"Forgive us both," Grace added. "We thought that you might want to have a little snigger after all the horrid things they did to you."

Cinderella shook her head. "I'd rather simply not think about them. I'm here now, and I'm happy and I'm free of them. I only hope that they can be happy too, somehow."

"And generous, too," Serena said. "You are a jewel. A most precious jewel, Cinderella, I hope Eugene realises what a treasure he has in you."

"He's been so kind to me," Cinderella said. "From the moment he saw me dressed like a servant he's been nothing but understanding."

Grace leaned in. "Has he…you know, has he tried to, um…"

It took Cinderella a few moments to realise what she meant. "No," she exclaimed. "No, we're not married yet."

"That doesn't bother all men," Grace said.

"It doesn't?"

"Of course not!" Serena cried. "Heavens, Cinderella, has every man in Armorique been struck blind? Have none of them ever approached you?"

Cinderella shook her head. "I've never really known any men. I've never…I don't really know anything about them. It's making me a little nervous, to tell you the truth."

Serena placed a comforting hand upon her arm. "If you need anything, help or advice or anything at all, just let me know."

"And me," Grace said. "I'll set you on the right path if you're ever unsure how to treat a man."

"Thank you," Cinderella said. "Thank you both, you've been so kind."

"Because we're your friends," Serena said. "And friends are supposed to share kindnesses."

"Thank you," Cinderella repeated. "Thank you so much. I think I might need someone's help if I'm going to manage this…if I'm going to be the wife that Eugene deserves."

"Deserves?" Grace asked. "You don't think he should have to work to deserve you?"

"He already did," Cinderella said. "He saved me, he took me away from my stepmother and now he's going to make you his wife."

"And that's all he needs to do?"

"I know with all my heart that if I were ever in trouble, Eugene would save me," Cinderella said. "And that's all that really matters, in the end. Isn't that what love is?"

"Perhaps," Serena murmured. "Though, as I feel the same way about my brother, that doesn't bode well for my marital prospects."

"I'm sure you'll find someone," Cinderella said.

Serena smiled, and kissed Cinderella on the cheek. "You're very sweet to say so, Cinderella."

Cinderella glanced at the clock, it was now almost eleven. "Everyone else should be arriving soon. It's funny, this is when it is all supposed to start, but now I feel like it's almost a pity. I feel like we're such good friends already I'd rather not be interrupted."

"Aww, we feel the same, Cinderella," Grace said. "Just promise you won't forget about us in the flood, alright?"

There was very little chance of that, as it turned out, mostly because the flood was absolutely terrible. Aside from Grace and Serena Cinderella could not recall one of the proud young nobles who treated her any real kindness whatsoever. All of them, daughters of lords and generals and admirals and colonels and the like, arrived dressed in their finest clothes, most of them sparkling with jewellery, and all of them inclined to look askance at her simple pink dress and the ribbon in her hair. Most of them were keen to stress the long line of their ancestors and the distinction of their parents, and as it went on Cinderella began to appreciate more and more the way that Grace and Serena had not done this. She could feel the hidden question behind the ancestry _Who are you, a girl of no account, to usurp the place that by rights belonged to one of us? Who are you, that we all must bow so low?_

It only got worse once they found out that she had until recently been a scullery maid. Then Hortense Villeneuve, a girl with a laugh like a horse, began asking her all sorts of questions like what did she think of the state of the palace chimneys, and wasn't it absolutely intolerable that there was dust on the windowsill, and didn't the windows need a good clean.

"Still, I expect you'll do something about it soon," Hortense said.

"I wasn't planning to," Cinderella replied calmly, refusing to give Hortense the satisfaction of a reaction.

"Really?" Hortense asked, sounding disappointed. "I thought if His Highness was going to marry a servant at least the standard of cleaning around here might go up. Alas, that even that small benefit is an illusion."

And so it went on. Remarks about her education, her intellect, her ambition, her dress sense. Cinderella felt as though she was drowning beneath the weight of their condescension. Serena and Grace did what they could, but they were only two people amongst a sea of enemies.

All she wanted was for it to be over.

By the time it was, by the time the last of them left, she was trembling like a tiny bird shivering in the cold.

She felt a pair of arms around her.

"Don't pay attention to them," Serena whispered. "Don't pay any attention to any of that awful gang. Listen to us. In all the world, we're all that matters."

Cinderella bowed her head. "I thought they might at least give me a chance."

"They're jealous," Grace said. "None of them can hold a candle to you."

Cinderella reached out and embraced them both, and kissed each one upon the cheek. "I am so fortunate in you," she whispered. "Anything that I can do to repay you, I will, I promise."

"Why, Cinderella, we do this because we're your friends," said Grace.

"And friendship," Serena added. "Asks for no reward."

* * *

"Mademoiselle Cinderella, can you name our neighbouring countries and their monarchs?" asked Monsieur Billot of the Courier. Unlike Monsieur Valis, Roland was a tall, slender man, with a sharp nose down which he regarded Cinderella and Eugene as he sat opposite them, his narrow face inscrutable due to the permanent expression of disapproval in which it seemed to be set.

"Is this an interview or a geography test?" Eugene demanded.

"Your Highness," Billot's tone was aggrieved. "The role of consort is not a ceremonial one. Our readers will want to know the realm is in good hands."

"There is time enough to learn such things."

"So you do not know them now, mademoiselle?" Billot asked.

Cinderella looked away. "I'm afraid not, monsieur."

"Do you, then, know the names of our American colonies?"

"Louisiana," Eugene barked. "What of it?"

"Another no, then."

"If this is going to be the tenor of all your questions then we're done," Eugene snapped. "A guard will show you out."

"One more question if I may, your highness," Billot said. "Why are you marrying this clearly unsuitable woman?"

"None of your damn business," Eugene snarled. "Get out."

"A pleasure, Your Highness," Billot said, exiting quickly.

Eugene put one arm around her. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise that the questions were going to be so harsh."

"What if they're right?" Cinderella asked.

"What?"

"What if he's right," Cinderella repeated. "What if love just isn't enough to make a princess?"

Eugene's grip on her tightened. "He isn't right, and you will be a great princess."

"How do you know?"

"I have faith, and I won't hear another word said on the matter," Eugene said. "How was the rest of your day?"

"Fine," Cinderella said. "The other interview went much better, and I made two friends."

"Really?"

"Yes, Serena and Grace," Cinderella said. "I'm sure that we'll get on wonderfully together, we three."

* * *

"So, how was Mademoiselle Cinderella?"

Serena sat down next to her brother, and snuggled up against him. "A sap. A minnow in a school of piranhas, poor dear, but it isn't really her fault."

Anatole de Montcalm looked down at her. "No?"

"No," Serena said. "I mean, the fact that she's insipid is her fault, but the fact is she's had no preparation at all. She's in love, but she has no idea how to do anything except be in love."

"So?"

"So I'll have her eating out of my hand in no time," Serena said. "After all, she'd do anything to repay my friendship."

"That's all our debts taken care of then."

"And more, beyond all doubt," Serena said. "And after that…"

"After that?"

"You don't think I'm going to bow and scrape to such as her forever, do you?" Serena said. "No, I'll be her friend, I'll cuddle her and kiss her and tell her how pretty she is. And in return she will shower wealth and titles and honours on our family. And then, once we've squeezed every advantage out of her like a sponge…then I'll destroy her."

 _Author's Note: Interviews are a little anachronistic for this story, but I liked the idea of including them._


	4. Bread

Bread

Etienne sheathed his sword and wandered away from the other young officers who remained, praciticing their fencing in the palace grounds. His limbs felt weary and he could feel beads of sweat forming upon his brow, but in truth the real reason he had abandoned the contest was because, in his distracted state, he was liable to get himself hurt.

 _Was I too hard on her?_ Eugene certainly thought so, but that did not mean Etienne was obliged to agree with him. Should allowance be made for inexperience? Perhaps, if combined with a thirst for knowledge and an eagerness and aptitude to learn, but Etienne had yet to see any sign of that in Mademoiselle Cinderella. She was a pretty girl, a beauty even, but beauty alone did not a princess make, still less a queen.

 _Still, perhaps I was too hard on her. I gave myself very little time to judge._ The truth, the awkward truth, the uncomfortable truth, was that he was just a little bit jealous. He would only ever be second place in Eugene's heart, now, and that was not something he was particularly pleased about.

Etienne took a drink of water from his flask, feeling the cool liquid drenching his parched throat, softening the sharpness that he could feel there.

"What ho, brother mine! Why so weary looking?"

The voice was familiar to Etienne, yet at the same time decidedly unwelcome. Etienne's world-worn face cringed a little, his dark eyes narrowing, his whole expression turning into a suspicious scowl as he turned around to face the man who approached him with a look of gleeful happiness standing in diametric opposition to Etienne's wary countenance.

"Lucien," Etienne muttered, his little brother's name dropping out of his mouth as though it were weighted down with stones. _Why not? He is a millstone round the neck of my family._

"You remember my name," Lucien said happily. "I'm so glad. You seem to want to forget me so badly that I sometimes worry that you'll succeed." Lucien Gerard was the younger of the two brothers and he looked it. While Etienne looked older than his years, Lucien still looked half a boy - the fact that he had never taken on anything approaching the responsibilities of a man might have something to do with that, Etienne thought sourly - with a round, deceptively guileless looking face and bright blue eyes, all framed by soft brown hair. He was well dressed, though the effect was undercut by his state of general dishevelment, as though he had just come from a party.

Probably he had.

"How did you get in here?" Etienne demanded.

Lucien blinked. "Why do you ask? Am I barred or something?"

"Yes, ever since the incident with Lady Leclerc at the King's Birthday celebration," Etienne reminded.

"That was a perfectly innocent misunderstanding."

"His Majesty didn't see it that way," Etienne said sharply, not needing to add that he didn't see it that way either. "How did you get onto the grounds."

"Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?"

Etienne's scowl deepened. "How much do you want, Lucien?"

Lucien drew back as though he were mortally offended. "What on earth makes you think I came here for money."

"Because I know you, how much?"

"Twenty pounds," Lucien said at once.

Etienne rolled his eyes. "What is it this time? Cards?"

"I have had a little bit of bad luck at the tables."

"You seem to have more bad luck than not," Etienne observed. "Perhaps Lady Luck is trying to tell you something."

"A homily on gambling, Etienne? From you?"

"There is a difference between the two of us."

"Really? And that is?"

"I win more often than not," Etienne said. Far more often, in fact. The salary of a colonel of cavalry might seem lavish to a common labouring man, but it wasn't much when you had a mother and sister to keep in some semblance of gentility, a wastrel brother to support and appearances to maintain. If it wasn't for his skill at whist and the second income he maintained thereby he would have been overwhelmed.

Still, much as he would have liked to have told Lucien to take care of his own debts, if he did that he would only to go to mother and mother would only tell him to give Lucien the money anyway. Best get it over with to avoid upsetting her. "I'll get you the money," he said. "But wait here, and don't cause any trouble."

"Why, Etienne?" Lucien gasped. "When have I ever caused anyone any trouble?"

* * *

Cinderella walked down one of the palace's many corridors, a set of windows upon her right, her fingers running idly upon the wall.

She was wearing, once again, the late Queen's dress, with the long lace cuffs and the bows around the hem of the white skirt. She had put it on for the Courier, because Eugene had suggested that she should look regal.

Much good it had done her. They thought her ignorant and foolish, just as Eugene did.

Perhaps they were even right.

Cinderella sat down in a window seat, feeling the cushion crumple a little beneath her, her head lowered, her eyes half closed. Was this to be her fate? To be treated by the whole kingdom as she had once been treated by her stepsisters? Were nobles and newspapers alike to deride her, mock her, tear her down, deny her even a chance at happiness?

Was her whole life to be nothing more than a parade of criticism, sometimes snide, sometimes blunt, always harsh?

Did she really deserve anything more? Did she deserve to climb so high? Was this the just punishment for all her pride and foolish vanity? What could she say, to those who thought her rightful place was scrubbing dishes?

"Why does Mademoiselle frown, when she has so many reasons to smile instead?"

Cinderella looked up, her eyes opening. Her first thought had been that Eugene had come after her, a foolish thought since the voice was clearly not that of her prince and future husband. And no, it was not him. Instead of Eugene's lantern jaw, this man - this young man, Cinderella almost wanted to call him a boy, but he was probably about the same age as her, but blessed with a young face - had a thin, narrow face, a sharp chin, a youthful countenance. His eyes were blue, and sparkled with a kind of merriment that seemed almost inappropriate to the misery that Cinderella felt right now. His hair was dark, and long, and fell down the sides of his face in curls that added to the boyishness of his appearance. His clothes were rumpled and crumpled and heavily worn, but he wore them well, and if he seemed to all scruffy it seemed the result of choice, not circumstance. A cheerful smile played upon his face.

"Smile, you say?" Cinderella asked. "Tell me, monsieur, why should I smile? What reasons do I have for smiling?"

"Because you are young, and beautiful beyond words to say," the young man said. "And beautiful young girls should always smile, if only so they will look more beautiful still. Because you are wealthy, and blessed with fine and pretty clothes and such things." He reached out and wrapped his lithe fingers around her hand, brushing his thumb against the diamond in her engagement ring. "And because you are about to be married, and marriage is an occasion for joy, not sorrow. Is it not so?"

"It is," Cinderella agreed. "It ought to be."

"Ought to but is not?" the young man asked. "Is he cruel to you?"

"No," Cinderella said immediately. "No, he could never be cruel. He…you are wrong to say that I am wealthy. This dress belongs to him. Everything belongs to him, I have nothing but what he gives me."

"Is that what makes you unhappy? You dislike being in his debt?" The young man asked. "Personally I find that debts are nothing to be ashamed of. Not at our age. Youth and debt: the two greatest stimulants in the world! They are natural and inseparable companions; they go together like ham and cheese. The man who did not spend his youth drowning in debt is the man who did not live when he was young."

Cinderella put one hand to her mouth as she felt herself giggle just a little. "Perhaps that is true, sir, but it is not my debt that troubles me."

The young man chuckled as he leaned forward. "It is good to see you laugh, mademoiselle. It shows your beauty better than frowning. Why then, if it is not debts nor the cruelty of your husband, why then so sad?"

Cinderella looked away. "Oh, I'm sure you wouldn't be interested in my troubles."

"On the contrary, mademoiselle, you have peaked my interest," the young man said. "I am interested in everyone and all their troubles, but especially I am interested in yours." He raised her left hand to his mouth and kissed it delicately, his lips barely brushing against her knuckles. "My name is Lucien Gerard, and I am at your service."

"Gerard," Cinderella said. "Are you related to Colonel Etienne Gerard?"

"Ah, I see that you have met my older brother," Lucien said.

"Yes," Cinderella murmured. "Yes, I have."

"And he made a terrible impression, I see," Lucien said, as though it mattered to him not a bit. "He is an awful prig, isn't he?"

Cinderella blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Etienne can be a prig, can't he?" Lucien repeated. "He has been so as long as I can remember. Is that why you are upset, was Etienne his usual charming self?"

"No," Cinderella said. "Well…maybe a little."

"Don't pay any attention to Etienne," Lucien declared casually. "He's just a small, humourless little man who likes to make everyone else as grumpy as he is. Listen to his dashing, intelligent, witty, worldly brother instead."

Cinderella snorted. "You're rather wicked about him; you shouldn't be so cruel."

"You should see the way that he treats me before you start to talk of cruelty," Lucien replied. "Mademoiselle will you not give me your name? You have the advantage of me now."

"Oh, forgive me," Cinderella said. "My name is Cinderella. Cinderella Tremaine."

"Cinderella whom our prince will marry?" Lucien asked, his blue eyes widening. He stood, and bowed to her. "Please, mademoiselle, say I have not offended."

"Of course not," Cinderella said. "How could you have offended me?"

Lucien shrugged. "So many people in this palace are offended by me, I was worried you would be another."

"You may rest assured, monsieur, that you've been a perfect gentleman so far."

Lucien put one hand upon his heart. "I delight to hear it. But, if you are soon to be our princess of Armorique, surely that is another reason to put aside all frowns for good? Has Etienne offended you so deeply?"

"It isn't just Colonel Gerard," Cinderella said. "It's…it's so many other people. They all seem to think that I can't do this, that I don't know enough, that I can't learn enough, that I don't deserve to…they all look down on me, or so many of them do. I can't help but wonder whether they might be right."

"And so that makes you sad?"

"It makes me melancholy," Cinderella said. "Is that so strange?"

"It is a little strange that you pay heed to them," Lucien replied, sitting back down again. "Please, mademoiselle, having seen you laugh I can't abide now to see you return to scowls and frowns. Will you not smile?"

"How?" Cinderella asked. "Right now I feel so little to smile about."

Lucien was quiet for a moment, looking at her in a way that made Cinderella start to feel a little self-conscious – she reached for her hair in case there were any loose strands that needed to be tucked back in – before he said, "I was recently in a pub when a man challenged me to a game of darts. I said 'Nearest to bull starts', he went 'Baa', I went 'Moo' and he said, 'You're closest'."

Cinderella stared at him, wondering what he was…oh. Oh. Her eyebrows rose in polite puzzlement.

"I was in a florists," Lucien said. "When someone came in and said 'Evening primrose'. I replied 'That's Lucien Gerard, to you.'"

The corner of Cinderella's lips began to turn ever so slightly upwards.

"Have you ever gotten halfway through eating a horse and realised you were not as hungry as you thought you were?" he asked. "Though actually I prefer to race horses. But the last time I reached the finish light I got hit in the eye with an apple seed: pipped at the post."

Cinderella bowed her head as she began to laugh. "Those are terrible!"

"And yet they have made you laugh all the same," Lucien observed.

"Yes," Cinderella agreed, clutching at her side. "Yes, you have. Thank you, monsieur."

"Please, call me Lucien."

"Only if you call me Cinderella."

" _Enchantee_ , Cinderella," Lucien said, bowing his head. "Do you want to know the secret that will make sure that they can never make you frown again?"

"There is a secret?"

"Nobody cares," Lucien said. "Not about you, not about anybody but themselves."

Cinderella frowned. "I'm sure that that can't be true. That sounds…not everyone is so unkind."

"It is not a matter of unkindness, merely of benign indifference," Lucien replied. "I used to feel so ashamed of things I had done, I expected everyone to stare at me, to whisper about me, to spit on me and rebuke me for my faults and misdeeds. But then I walked out into the streets and lo! Nobody cared! Nobody cared a hoot what I had done."

"What had you done?" Cinderella asked.

"Not important," Lucien said quickly. "Nothing so bad as my treatment by Etienne would have you believe, to be sure. But that is not the point. The point is that the world did not care for my shame, the world did not care about what I had done, the world did not even care who I was. And it was like a bright light shining upon me as I realised: since the world does not care about me…why should I care about the world. And so from that moment on I have lived as I chose, done whatever pleased me, hung the consequence. And I have not because a despised person as a result of this, I am better liked now than I ever was before, and I smile my way through life with a light heart. And if you were to do the same-"

"I couldn't," Cinderella said. "I couldn't just stop caring what other people think-"

"But that's the point," Lucien said. "They don't think about you, you just worry that they do and you let that fear control you. Come with me."

Cinderella gasped faintly as Lucien grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, beginning to drag her down the corridor. "Wait, where are you taking me?"

"I'm going to set you free," Lucien declared. He smiled at her. "Don't you want to be free to smile?"

Cinderella hesitated. What he was offering her seemed absurd, and yet… "Yes. Yes I do."

"Then follow me!" Lucien cried, as gleeful as a child.

Cinderella held up her dress with her free hand as Lucien led her by the other down the corridor and down a couple of flights of stairs, out of the palace proper and into the garden. He led her past the fountain and over the bridge, and to a secluded corner of the palace grounds, a section that seemed almost fenced off with hedges on all four sides, and only a small gap between them. It was incredibly overgrown, with weeds over a foot tall, nettles and brambles everywhere, needles and points sticking out, choking out all more pleasant life.

"What is this?" Cinderella asked.

"A secret way out of the palace," Lucien said, letting go of Cinderella's hand to focus on clearing aside some of the weeds and brambles from his path. "Come, Mademoiselle, follow me."

Cinderella tried to her best to follow where he led, though whoever had made this secret way had obviously never tried to get to it in a dress. The nettles grabbed at her skirt, the lace cuffs on her sleeves caught on the bramble thorns, and she had to constantly take the smallest of small steps to avoid ripping something or shredding her gown to rags along the way.

"If this way is a secret," she asked, as she picked her way achingly slowly through the overgrown garden, a scowl settling on her face as she tried to navigate a way with her dress intact. "Then how do you know about it?"

"My father was once high in the King's esteem, and Etienne and I would be invited to the palace frequently, as companions for Prince Eugene," Lucien explained. "Of course, His Highness was only ever interested in Etienne, and I was ignored. Left to my own devices, I one day found an old key half buried in the grounds. Then, later, I found the door that the key unlocked."

He reached the palace wall, though it was hard to tell because it too was overgrown, and grunted as he cleared away some of the overgrowth to reveal a slightly rusty iron door, set into the wall like a postern.

"Long ago," Lucien said, his voice soft. "There was a beautiful princess, who was in love with a common carpenter's boy from in the town. Her father, the king of that time, forbade her to see him, and her heart cracked with aching at their parting. But then the princess had an idea: she asked to be given a plot of the garden that was entirely her own, that the work might take her mind off her loneliness, and her father agreed. And so this part of the garden was closed off, and with the help of a single faithful servant, the princess had a hole made in the wall, and this gate set into it, so that she might slip out without her father's knowledge and meet with her love in secret."

Cinderella hesitated. "Is that true?"

"It is dismissed as legend nowadays, but it fits what we see, does it not?"

Cinderella nodded. "What does the legend say happened to the princess?"

"She died," Lucien said sadly. "She gave her heart to one who was unworthy of it."

Cinderella lowered her head. _Poor girl. To be willing to do so much for love…and then have your love rejected. Is there any fate worse?_

"Come," Lucien said, taking an ancient brass key out of his pocket and using it to unlock the iron door. It squeaked and groaned as he pushed it open. "Follow me, Cinderella, and you shall see that far from holding you in contempt, the world does not notice you at all. And then you will feel free to do as you please."

Lucien took her hand once more as he led through the gate – it was a small gate, and even Cinderella had to duck to pass beneath it, though she was far from tall herself – and then they were past the walls and beyond the boundaries of the palace. On this side there was no building done, rather there was a park that sat against the eastern walls, with a paved way lined with elm trees leading down to the streets of the city proper.

"Will you take my arm?" Lucien asked.

Cinderella took half a step backwards. "I don't think that would be appropriate, really."

Lucien looked disappointed for a moment, before his face recovered its merry air. "As you wish, m'lady. We shall walk side by side, like brother and sister."

As they walked down the paved path, through the shadow of the trees, Cinderella asked, "So, Lucien, what were you doing in the palace in the first place?"

"Hmm?"

"You were not there to see me, I'm sure."

Lucien waved one hand idly. "I had some business with my brother, it is not important."

"Really, I'd hate to think that I-"

"What gentleman would not drop everything to help a lady in distress?" Lucien asked. "I did nothing but what any good man in my position would have done."

Cinderella smiled slightly. "I think you underestimate yourself."

Lucien laughed. "If so, it would be the first time."

They passed out of the park and into the two proper, Lucien in his fine but well-worn garb and Cinderella in her formal gown, and…it was just as Lucien had said. Practically nobody seemed to notice. A few eyes followed her, but quickly lost interest and turned elsewhere. No one pointed, no one whispered, nobody yelled or through things. Nobody really cared.

"You see?" Lucien said. "The world is full of its own comings and goings, it has no time for other people. So why, then, oppress yourself with fears of how they see you? What purpose when, as you can see, they do not see you at all."

He was more than half right: all around Cinderella the world carried on as normal. Instead of laughter behind her back, she as surrounded by laughter all around as children played around her. Instead of cold stares, no one noticed her at all. Instead of mocking gossip, all around her was the buzz and chatter of everyday life: wares behind hawked, prices haggled down, marriages and births discussed, illnesses commiserated over.

And yet…as she watched, without being seen, Cinderella noticed how thin so many of these people were. She had never really noticed it before, and so many beggars. Had there always been so many? Had she simply been too consumed by her own struggles to notice?

"Who is it who is snatching bread from the mouths of your children?"

The cry, loud and angry, was accompanied by a heavy murmur like a tide of noise rolling up over the beach. It was coming from a nearby square, and Cinderella headed towards the noise, heedless of Lucien hissing at her, trying to get her to come back.

A large crowd had gathered around an equestrian statue of some old king, armoured for war, mounted upon a snorting warhorse. A young man in a red coat, with golden curls shining in the sunlight, stood upon the statue's base, one hand gripping a leg of the horse to support him while, with the other hand, he gestured frantically to the masses of ordinary working people who had come to hear him speak.

"Where are the leaders of the land? Where is the king who runs this show? Why are they not here to see you starving, working your fingers to the bone to feed your families?"

The crowd murmured in support. Cinderella leaned closer to Lucien. "What are they so upset about?"

"The grain tariff, I expect," Lucien said. "It's always the grain tariff, these days."

"Do they know how high the price of bread has become?" the young man on the statue cried. "Do you think they care, these lords and great gentlemen who rule over us? Do you think that their bellies are not full? You grow thin from the sweat of labouring to buy a stale crust, while their purses grow fat from the price of wheat. I ask again, where is this king, who is meant to rule over us justly? Where is the king who is sworn to protect his people? Where is this king?"

"Where? Where?" the crowd yelled back.

"I tell you where, he is up there, there in his palace," the young man cried. "By distance blinded to our concerns. But is he deaf as well? Come with me friends, and let us shake the windows of that royal house and makes the walls tremble with our clamour. Bread! Bread!"

"Bread! Bread! Bread!" one by one all the people who filled up the square, all the people so densely packed, all of them took up the cry, striking the clouds with their chant of bread, bread.

"Let us wake up the palace!" cried the young man who led them, leaping off the statue and into the chanting, baying, yelling crowd. "Bread!" he yelled, and they shouted with him as they began to push through the streets, more people joining them as they went, marching upon the palace.

"Bread! Bread! Bread!"

Lucien placed a hand on Cinderella's arm. "We should go."

"Go?" Cinderella asked, looking at him. "I think we ought to follow them?"

"What?" Lucien yelled. "But if they go marching on the palace there's almost certain to be trouble."

"I know," Cinderella murmured. "That's why we have to follow them."

* * *

The Foot Guards formed up in two ranks behind the gate, that spindly pattern of cold iron standing between them and the jeering mob advancing up them. Their muskets were shouldered, but there was sufficient room to bring them to bear, if that were required. The men, in their blue jackets and black shakoes, faced the crowd without expression, as the drums beat and the their captain rode up and down behind their ranks, exhorting them to stand firm.

Behind the double line of the infantry, Etienne formed up a squadron of his hussars. He only had half his uniform on, all he had had time to don in the rush, which meant that for once he was less well dressed than any of his men in their fur-trimmed pelisses. They kept their sabres in their sheaths, and their carbines slung in the saddles for now, but both were ready and to hand. Their horses reared and snorted and pranced impatiently, pulling at the bit in their eagerness to be off.

Etienne stood in front of his men, his own horse out in front of the squadron, the air seeming to have chilled around him. Still, he was close enough to the men that he could hear them muttering behind.

"Are we going to have to charge all those civvies, sarge?"

"If we get the order, lad."

"But there's women there and everything sarge, and little'uns."

"Orders are orders, lad."

"Doesn't mean we have to like it, sarge."

"No," the sergeant-chef replied. "But it does you have to do it all the same."

Etienne frowned. Hopefully the crowd would see reason, but if not…best not to think about that at this stage. He tried to think of something else…his thoughts drifted to his unwelcome brother, whom he hadn't seen since this started. Hiding, most likely, until the crisis was passed.

 _Stay safe, little brother._

* * *

The crowd were at the gates of the palace now, rattling the iron, pulling on it, shaking it, yelling into the faces of the guards, faces there were sometimes impassive, sometimes nervous, who confronted them on the other side of the gate.

"Move back!" the officer of the guards demanded. "Back away at once!"

"Bring out the king!" the young man who had led the demonstration cried.

"Bread! Bread!" yelled the crowd.

"Move back or you will be dispersed by force," the guards officer shouted. "Move back!"

"Bread!"

"The King!"

"Get back!"

"Wait," Cinderella cried. "Everyone, please wait." Her voice was overwhelmed, lost in the deluge of noise. She had to get higher, had to get people's attention. She looked at Lucien for help, but he looked petrified, frozen with fear. There would no help there, poor dear.

 _I have to do something. I have to get everyone's attention before things get worse._ Cinderella noticed another statue nearby, standing just off the road that led to the palace gates. It was only a statue of a man on foot, and the plinth was not large, but it would serve to get her up high.

And she had to move quickly too, because things were only getting worse.

"Back away!"

"Bread!"

"Send us our King!"

"If you will not retreat then you will be forced back," shouted the commander of the guards. He drew his sword, and the blade glittered in the afternoon light. "Soldiers! Fix bayonets!"

There was a rustle of fumbling as the guards beyond the palace gates drew their long iron blades and affixed them to the muzzles of their muskets.

"Present arms!"

The muskets snapped up, black barrels pointing directly into the yelling crowd.

"Devils!" yelled the young man defiantly.

"Make ready!"

The flints on the muskets were pushed back with a series of clicking sounds, presaging the louder noises to come.

"Wait!" Cinderella shrieked, climbing up on top of the nearest statue. "Everybody please, wait, listen to me!"

* * *

"Bloody hell!" Eugene exclaimed.

"Your Highness?" His Grace asked, striding over to where Eugene was watching the demonstration.

Eugene passed the Grand Duke his telescope. "Cinderella's down there." His heartbeat, which had been relatively calm – for he knew that, for all their noise, the people posed little danger – was now racing like a prize jumper at the derby.

"Really?" His Grace demanded, putting the telescope to his monocled eye. "But how?"

"I don't know," Eugene muttered, thumping the window with one hand. He snapped his fingers at a nearby. "You! Get down there and tell the guards to lower their weapons. For god's sake, do it quickly."

* * *

Cinderella felt every eye turn towards her, every face look up at her, and for a moment it was enough to make her quail from nervousness…but she could not afford to be frightened now. She had to do something, she had to stop this.

She had to speak.

"I know that His Majesty is not here to listen to you at the moment," she said, her voice trembling. "But I am, so speak to me."

"Who are you?" someone in the crowd demanded.

"My name is Cinderella," Cinderella said. "I…I'm going to marry Prince Eugene."

A few people jeered at that. "She is one of them," the young man cried. "She will seek to trick you all to save herself."

"And who are you?" Cinderella said.

"My name is Marius, I speak for the common man," Marius said.

"If you can speak for all these people here, then why should I speak for all those people there?" Cinderella asked, gesturing towards the palace. "What is it that you want?"

"Bread!"

"To afford to feed our families."

"Cheap food."

"We want the tariffs gone," Marius cried. "We want the lords and farmers to stop fattening themselves on our misery. We want a fair price for a fresh loaf. We want the Corn Laws gone."

"I see," Cinderella said, hiding the fact that she didn't know what the Corn Laws were, though she remembered that Etienne had mentioned them. "Please… I know that what I'm about to ask of you will be difficult, but please wait here while I go and speak to His Majesty, and find out what can be done for all of you."

"Why should we trust you?" Marius demanded.

"Do you have a choice?"

"We can be martyrs."

"Wouldn't you rather be fed?" Cinderella asked.

More than a few people seemed to agree with her, the majority in fact. Marius did not look wholly convinced, but he nodded. "Very well, but you will return."

"I give you my word," Cinderella said climbing down from the statue. "And I hope to return with something to make your lives easier."

"You will forgive me if I withhold my hope."

"Of course," Cinderella murmured. "Lucien, are you coming?"

Lucien shook his head. "Best if I, um…not quite yet. Perhaps when things have calmed down…and so has he."

Cinderella nodded. "Very well, I will see you soon then."

The crowd parted for her, and Cinderella walked through the press towards the gates.

"Will you please let me in?" she asked.

The gates were opened, and Cinderella passed through them, holding the folds of her dress in her hand as she began to walk towards the palace.


	5. The Cinderella Subsidy

The Cinderella Subsidy

Colonel Gerard dismounted as Cinderella walked towards the palace, standing athwart her path like Little John barring the bridge to Robin Hood of England. He stared down at her, his face impassive.

"Colonel," Cinderella murmured coolly. "Are you going to rebuke me?"

"No, I was going to say that you were very brave, if perhaps a little rash," Etienne said. "But better to be brave and rash than to be craven. Come, mademoiselle, I shall bring you to His Majesty."

He did not offer her his arm, but kept close beside her as she walked up the palace steps and into the grand hallway. The guards still lining the corridor - fewer than usual, with so many out at the gate, stared at her with what Cinderella half thought was suspicion, and she was glad of Colonel Gerard's presence as he ushered her along, past the guards in the corridor and up the stairs.

Cinderella felt a lump begin to form in her throat. She had promised to do everything she could but...what if that was nothing? She was not a princess yet, she had no title, no power or authority. She was not even Eugene's wife. She had neither ability nor right to do anything, she was wholly reliant upon her ability to persuade, and what was that worth? Since when had she ever possessed a silver tongue? What would happen, if she had to go back out to the waiting crowd and tell them that nothing could be done, that things would stay exactly as they were.

[i]I will have to find some unexpected store of eloquence in me, for I cannot fail.[/i]

"I wouldn't get your hopes up too high, mademoiselle," Colonel Gerard murmured.

Cinderella glanced at him. "Why not? Because I have not the skill?"

Etienne sighed. "I was rude to you, mademoiselle, that I grant, but not every word out of my mouth is a critique of you, not even an indirect one, nor are they all intended to be read into with suspicion. I merely meant that what the people complain of cannot be settled with a royal decree. The Corn Laws are not so simply put aside."

"The Corn Laws, you mentioned those before," Cinderella said. "What are they?"

"You intend to speak for the people without knowing what their problem is?"

That was a rebuke. "I'm trying to help," Cinderella said sharply. "Doesn't that count for something?"

Etienne paused, bowing his head. "Yes, it does. Stop a moment, and I will explain as briefly as I can: the Corn Laws are a set of tariffs on the import of foreign grain, wheat, flour, things of that nature. Do you know what a tariff is?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Simply put, when someone wants to import corn into the country from abroad, they have to pay a large sum of money up front just to get it into our ports or across our borders. So they have to raise prices in order to make a profit."

"And that is what is keeping the price of bread so high?"

"No, because the tariffs are so prohibitive that nobody bothers to import grain into the country, it would never be profitable. And that is the point of the Corn Laws, to stop foreign imports from undercutting our own farmers, who are free to set high prices of their own safe in the knowledge that they will never face meaningful competition and that, mademoiselle, is what is keeping the price of bread so high."

Cinderella nodded, a frown knitting her brow. "So...the people are starving so that the farmers can make more money? That's terrible! Why doesn't anyone do something about it?"

"Because these are not peasant farmers of whom we are speaking," Etienne replied. "These are the great landowners of the realm, the lords and squires; they are the officers of the court, they sit in the Chamber of Peers and they own seats in the Chamber of Deputies. Their interests are formidable. Against them are ranged the middle class magnates, the industrialists, the new money men; they are on the rise but they are not yet predominant, and the landowners will fight to keep it that way."

"And all the while the people starve," Cinderella said. "Who speaks for them?"

"Apparently, you do, Mademoiselle," Colonel Gerard said, with an ever so slight smile. "But I warn you, His Majesty has not the power to repeal the Corn Laws by decree without the parliamentary consent, and might not even if he could."

"There must be something I can do," Cinderella said softly.

"Perhaps," Etienne said. "But I cannot tell you what that something might be. Come, to the King."

Cinderella bowed her head as he led the way, following his boots up the stairs. What could she do? What could she do to help those people out there? There had to be something, but what?

As Etienne led her into the royal presence, Cinderella consoled herself with the knowledge that at least Eugene would be on her side.

Etienne led her into a long drawing room overlooking the palace gates. His Majesty the King sat enthroned, not in his actual throne, but he was sitting in a huge armchair in such a way as to suggest throne-ness even from a lesser seat. His Grace the Grand Duke stood beside him, along with-

"Cinderella!"

Cinderella half-flinched from Eugene's use of her name. It was not the loving tone he had been wont to use, the almost gentle caress. Instead it was an angry bark, and so peremptory it almost reminded her of her stepmother.

 _Do the dishes, do the washing, mend these clothes and air the curtains._

Eugene strode down the room towards her, his hands clenched into fists, his stride long, a grim expression upon the face that had previously looked with such kindness towards her.

 _Previously…as in today, and yesterday, and the night before. Who am I to know what face he usually wears?_

The thought struck Cinderella like a lightning bolt, and with a sensation just as uncomfortable. She tried to push it from her mind, but that was very difficult as Eugene seemed to approach her less like a man coming to greet the woman he loved and more like a carriage bearing down the road to run somebody over.

She smiled nervously. "Eugene-"

He grabbed her hands, not tenderly but fiercely, gripping them tight. "What were you thinking? What in God's name?"

Cinderella winced. "You're hurting me."

Eugene's eyes widened, he released her at once, taking a step back as though it was she that had struck him. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "But…Cinderella what were you doing out there? Revealing yourself to that mob? You could have been killed!"

"I was trying to help before someone got hurt," Cinderella said.

"You could have been hurt!" Eugene snapped. "What were you even doing outside the palace anyway?"

It was Cinderella's turn to retreat a step from him. "I can go where I please."

"No, you can't, not any more."

"Am I your prisoner?"

"No, of course not, but try to understand," Eugene said. "There are people who will hurt you to hurt me, hurt this family. You have to keep your safety in mind all the time."

"I was perfectly safe," Cinderella replied. "I was with Lucien-"

"Lucien?" Eugene demanded. "Lucien was behind this."

"I'm going to kill him," Etienne murmured.

"Lucien wasn't behind anything!" Cinderella declared. "He escorted me but he didn't force me. I can make my own decisions!"

"I never said that you couldn't," Eugene replied. "I just said that you made the wrong decisions."

His Grace coughed. "Ahem, your highness, perhaps we might discuss the matter more close to hand. Mademoiselle, you spoke to those, ahem, people outside."

"Yes, Your Grace, I did," Cinderella said, grateful to have a chance to turn her attention away from Eugene, whom she found that she could barely look at right now. _How can he talk to me that way?_ She kept her eyes on the King and the Grand Duke instead. For the moment, the King was quiet, weighing her with his eyes, seeming content to let His Grace speak to her. "They are not bad people, your majesty, only desperate. They are starving."

"Do they imagine that His Majesty is stop piling food here in the palace, enough to feed them all?" the Grand Duke asked.

"No, your grace, but they hope he can do something to help them," Cinderella said. "Your Majesty is the king, after all."

"Within the constraints of precedent, tradition, protocol and the constitution," the Grand Duke said.

"There must still be something that you can do," Cinderella said, spreading her arms out wide in almost supplication. "I know that you cannot repeal the corn laws by yourself, but surely sire there is something that can be done right now, as people are starving right now. You are the king, the people look to you to protect them."

The King's bushy white brows knitted together. "What would you suggest, my dear?"

"I…I'm not…" Cinderella hesitated. She did not know, she had no solution, but if she admitted that then she knew, instinctively, that she would be lost. All their eyes were upon her now, His Majesty, His Grace, Colonel Gerard, Eugene. She had to think of something, she had to see something that they had not. Something that they would not…and then she had it. "A subsidy," she cried. "The people complain that the price of bread is too high, but what if the crown were to subsidise it, to pay some of the price of every loaf sold, then the people would not have to pay so much."

"But the expense to the crown would be ruinous!" squawked the Grand Duke.

"What if it could be paid for?" Cinderella asked. "With, I don't know, higher taxes on…something that only affects the rich."

"Property," Colonel Gerard suggested. "The poor all rent their houses, it is only the wealthy middle class who would be hit by a property tax."

"That would need to be voted on in chambers," Eugene murmured.

"But the subsidy could be created now," the King declared. "A subsidy of twenty five percent on the price of bread, to be paid in full every month, and with stiff penalties to anyone not passing on the reduction to the people."

Cinderella smiled. "Your Majesty…you really mean it?"

His Majesty smiled fondly. "My late wife would often chide me for not considering the interests of the common people sufficiently in my decisions. Apparently I have missed her wisdom even more than I knew, yet I see already that you will prove a worthy successor to her in that regard, Cinderella. Go now, and bring the people their good news."

"I'll go with you," Eugene said.

"I'll be quite alright," Cinderella said. "I know the way."

Eugene looked hurt, which made her feel a little guilty, but then she reminded herself that he had spoken just as harshly to her not too long ago, and with less cause. _Why did he do that? I hadn't done anything wrong._

"I will accompany you, mademoiselle, if you will," Etienne said. "I need to have a word with my brother."

"Do not be too angry with His Highness," Etienne said, as he followed her down the stairs, walking one step behind her even though he could have drawn level or overtaken her if he had wished to do so. "What he said...it came from care for you."

"He sounded more angry than caring," Cinderella murmured, looking down at the steps in front of her. She held her skirt lightly in her hands, up out of the way of her feet, and felt the soft silk of her petticoat brushing against her legs with every step she took.

"It was dangerous, what you did," Etienne replied. "Do you deny it?"

"Which part?" Cinderella asked. "Leaving the palace or addressing the crowd?"

"Both," Etienne said. "Please, mademoiselle, tell me that you are not such a fool as to think my brother's company would keep you safe."

They had reached the bottom of the stairs now, and Cinderella half turned, looking up into Etienne's face. "You don't trust him?"

"I know him too well for trust."

"I like Lucien," Cinderella replied. "I don't want you to punish him for this, he doesn't deserve it. As I told Eugene, I can make my own decisions, Lucien isn't responsible for me."

"Lucien isn't responsible for anyone," Etienne growled. "Not even himself."

"I mean it," Cinderella said pointedly. "I heard what you said, I don't want you to hurt him."

Etienne sighed. "Very well, mademoiselle, I will restrain myself."

Cinderella began to walk down the corridor towards the door. "Did Eugene mean what he said? It sounded like he would prefer to keep me in a gilded cage for his own peace of mind."

"Perhaps he would like to," Etienne said. "But he has his reasons for feeling so."

"Which are?"

"Alas, mademoiselle, that is not my secret to reveal," Etienne replied. He was silent for a moment, the only sound in the corridor being the soft thud of his boots on the carpet. "Please, do not take his tone too harsh. A few angry words do not a good man unmake. He loves you."

"But he doesn't trust me," Cinderella murmured, half-wondering to herself what was left of love if trust was no part of it.

The two walked out of the palace and crossed the courtyard briskly, approaching the gate where the crowd stood gathered, staring at the double line of guards who faced them, impassively. At least the guards were no longer aiming their muskets at hungry, desperate people.

Monsieur Marius, the young man in the red coat, stood at the head of the gathered crowd, with the dying sunlight illuminating his curly red-gold hair. His thin, boyish face was pale, and as Cinderella approached she could make out the many clusters of freckles on it.

"What news, mademoiselle?" he demanded. "What scraps does the King grant to his people?"

Cinderella stopped about six feet away, letting go of her skirt, and letting the hem of her gown drop to the ground. The light of the descending sun caught the gold band on her finger, and the diamond and the sapphires set upon it sparkled for a moment. Her engagement ring from Eugene, Cinderella wondered for a moment what it really meant to either of them.

She turned her mind away from that, and focussed on the task at hand. "His Majesty," she said. "Is aware of the root cause of your miseries, but cannot change that. But," she continued on, before the groans and cries of disdain from the crowd got any louder. "He has decided, that the crown will pay one quarter of the price of every loaf of bread you buy, until the price has dropped to a more reasonable rate."

"What is to stop the bakers raising their prices yet higher?" Marius demanded.

"The King will not let that happen," Cinderella said. She paused for a moment. "And I promise to you, when I become a princess, I will work however I can to end these terrible Corn Laws once and for all." It half felt as though it would have been more truthful to say 'if I become a princess', what with the way she was feeling right now, but the truth was...the truth was she was afraid to admit that. Even if Eugene was not who she thought he was, even if they were not as in love as she had thought, even if they were not ready to marry...what else could she do but marry him anyway? Go back to her Stepmother's house and take up her broom again? No, she could not do that. She would not do that. She would never do that. Even a loveless marriage would be much better than that.

Marius did not look entirely satisfied, but the people behind him seemed as though they had not even expected that much. "I hope you will allow me to say that I will watch, mademoiselle, and hold you to your word. But...thank you; it is more than I expected."

Cinderella nodded. "I'm very glad to have been able to help, monsieur."

"Three cheers for Mademoiselle Cinderella!" someone shouted from the press of the crowd. "Hip hip!"

"Hooray!"

"Hip hip!"

"Hooray!" the cheers were louder now, and more resounding.

"Hip hip!"

"Hooray!" the last was loudest still, and loud enough to strike the clouds above.

As the crowd began to dispense, everyone heading their several ways back home, Monsieur Marius bowed to her, with a look that was half impressed, and half mocking, before he turned away, his red coat swirling ever so slightly behind him.

And then there was only Lucien Gerard left, standing awkwardly in front of the palace gates, inspecting his nails and very, very carefully not looking at his brother.

"Lucien!" Etienne barked.

Lucien looked up. "Brother!" he cried. "I didn't realise that you were-"

"Come here," Etienne snapped.

"Hmm?"

"Come here," Etienne repeated, more slowly now, pointing to a spot just in front of him.

Lucien bowed his head as he walked with all the grace of a sullen schoolboy to the point just in front of his taller, older, more martial looking brother.

"I'm not quite sure why, but I was worried about you for a moment," Etienne growled. "Don't do anything like that again, you know what mother would say if something happened to you."

Lucien blinked in surprise. "Is that it?"

"That's it," Etienne said. "For now."

Lucien's face broke out into a broad smile that made his eyes twinkle. "Thank you, Etienne. I didn't know you cared. Now, about that twenty pounds-"

"Don't push your luck," Etienne snapped. He turned to Cinderella, and bowed his head. "Mademoiselle."

"Thank you for your help, Colonel."

"Ma'am," Etienne murmured, before he turned and walked away.

Lucien watched him go, then walked quickly across the courtyard to where Cinderella stood; he reached out and took her hand. "You have triumphed, it seems."

"Yes," Cinderella said softly. "It seems so."

"And yet you still look sad."

Cinderella lowered her eyes. "Eugene was angry with me. I didn't think could be angry with me."

"Lots of men become angry," Lucien replied. "It does not make them bad men."

"No, but..." Cinderella sighed. "The way he...I didn't think that...I suppose I was very naive."

"Only those who glory in their cynicism make innocence out to be a fault," Lucien said gently.

"I think...it shocked me so," Cinderella said. "And it made me wonder...what do I really know about the man I am pledged to marry? Can I really say I love him?"

Lucien stared at her, his blue eyes gazing into her own. "I...I do not know how to answer you, Cinderella, but...if you need a place to stay...I will take care of you, if you will allow it."

Cinderella smiled. "You are very kind, Lucien, but I hope it will not come to that." She stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him on the cheek. "You are my friend, and if ever I can help you, I will."

"That is most kind of you, Cinderella," Lucien said, with a sweeping bow.

Cinderella curtsied. "Goodbye, Lucien."

"For now, at least."

Cinderella favoured him with one last smile, before she turned and made her way back into the palace.

* * *

Lucien watched her go, his eyes following her graceful steps, before he sighed deeply, and looked up at the darkening sky above.

"Ah, Lucien," he murmured to himself. "You would have to fall in love with a woman who is already engaged, wouldn't you?"

* * *

Eugene sat in the drawing room, alone, his father and the Grand Duke having departed, looking out of the window at the dispersing crowd, at Etienne's odious brother, and at Cinderella, as she walked back towards the palace.

Cinderella. His Cinderella, until only moments ago. Now...was she so blind? So foolish? Could she really not appreciate what he was trying to tell her? Did she really not understand how dangerous the world could be?

Perhaps he had been too overt in his anger, too quick to react - he seemed to have a habit of that, where Cinderella was involved - but by heaven, when he saw her in the crowd he had been so frightened...he could not bear to lose Cinderella as he had lost Katherine. He could not.

There was a knock upon the door, making Eugene look up. Etienne stood there, his face inscrutable.

Eugene pushed himself off the table on which he had been sitting. "It is done, then?"

Etienne nodded. "It's done. Bit of bad news."

"What?"

Etienne gave a wry smiled. "She likes my brother."

Eugene rolled her eyes. "Everyone likes Lucien at first. She'll learn."

"Perhaps. We can hope, anyway," Etienne said. "You need to speak to her."

Eugene snorted. "Are you sure that's such a good idea right now?"

"I think it's vital," Etienne replied. "She's upset. With you, and with herself I think."

"And if I speak to her I might stick my foot in my mouth and make it worse," Eugene muttered. "I seem to do all the wrong things where Cinderella is concerned. Asking her to dance and then to marry me are the only things I've done right."

"Staying away and saying nothing would be worse than saying something wrong," Etienne replied. "She'll think you think that you're right."

"I am right."

"Is it more important to be right, or to keep your betrothed sweet?" Etienne asked. "Apologise, at least for snapping at her, and for putting it the way you did. She doesn't like the side of you she saw, and it has her wondering."

"Wondering what?"

"If you are the man she thought you were," Etienne said softly. "The man she agreed to marry."

"Oh my...really?" Eugene asked, his eyes widening as he felt an icy chill grip his stomach. "Honestly, this isn't a joke?"

"I know why you acted like you did," Etienne said. "But she doesn't, so you need to explain...something to her, just to put her at ease."

"Are you sure?" Eugene said.

"Some wounds heal with time, others fester and get infected," Etienne said. "If you let her stew, worrying about whether the charming prince she danced with was all an act, and you're going to turn out to be some gothic romance villain holding her prisoner then you'll lose her. So you need to put her right."

Eugene snorted. "Why are you advising me this? You don't even like her?"

"She's risen slightly in my estimations," Etienne said. "And besides, I know you'd be miserable without her."

Eugene chuckled. "You're a good friend."

"Better than you, to be sure," Etienne remarked idly. "Best of luck out there."

He found Cinderella in one of the sitting rooms, sitting upon a settee in the darkness, the room illuminated only by a single fire burning yellow in the great. Flickering reflections of the flame danced upon her fair skin, and in her strawberry hair. By heaven she was beautiful, an angel sent to enrapture him, from her bright sapphire eyes to her plump pink lips to the softness of her curves...but now she looked forlorn, head bowed, eyes down, huddled on the settee half kneeling on it, with her legs tucked beneath her and her soft slippers peaking out from beneath the folds of her dress. Her mouth curved down with sadness, as she played with the ring on her finger.

Eugene frowned as he knocked on the door. "Cinderella?"

* * *

"Cinderella?"

Cinderella looked up at the sound of the knock on the door, and saw Eugene standing there, half illuminated by the light of the flickering flames, staring at her with concern, or at least she thought it was. It might have been something else, considering how little she knew.

She tried to rise, but found that her legs had gotten a little tangled up in her dress. "Your Highness," she murmured.

"Please," Eugene said, his voice breathy, as he walked across the room towards her. "Please, there is no need for that." He stood over her, looking down upon her like a judge. "May I sit down?"

Cinderella shuffled across a little. "Your Highness may do as he pleases."

"Stop that," Eugene said sharply. "Why do you do that?"

Cinderella looked away. "I don't know, I'm sorry."

Eugene sat down beside her. "I'm sorry if I upset you earlier. I just…Cinderella, will you look at me?"

She looked at him, and was surprised to see how distraught he looked, eyes wide, hair a little dishevelled, leaning forward towards her.

"When I saw you down there I was so afraid," Eugene said. "And if that fear made me react badly, as it did, then I apologise for it but please, try to understand, my only thought was for your safety."

Cinderella stared at him for a moment. "Do you love me?" she asked quietly.

Eugene frowned. "What?"

"Do you love me?" Cinderella repeated.

"Of course I do."

"Why?" Cinderella asked.

Eugene opened his mouth but then, as Cinderella had feared, he stopped, and said nothing.

"You can say it," Cinderella said. "My beauty, isn't it? That is what you love?"

"No."

"How can it be anything else, you barely know me."

"Is it the same for you?" he asked. "That you love nothing more than my good looks?"

"I love the fact that you were kind to me, the first person to be kind in many years," Cinderella replied. "That was why it was so shocking, when suddenly you weren't kind any more."

"Cinderella," Eugene murmured.

"How can this be right?" she asked. "How can we marry when we barely know one another?"

"We can learn to get to know one another, in time," Eugene said. "Cinderella I look at you and I know, I _know_ that you are the girl for me. My heart tells me that here is the maid predestined to be my bride. Does your heart not tell you the same?"

"Yes," Cinderella whispered, thinking back to that night, two nights ago now, when she had felt a touch upon her hand as she stood admiring the grandeur of the palace. She had felt the touch, and whirled around in surprise, and not a little fear – what if it had been her stepmother, come to expose her as a servant girl in front of the whole palace – and then she had looked into the most gorgeous pair of soft brown eyes and she had known, she had _known_ with all the absolute certainty of faith that this gentleman meant her no harm at all. And so when he bowed to her, she curtsied to him in return, and smiled at him, and then he had kissed her hand and she had never wanted to leave his side again.

Cinderella reached out, and placed his hand on top of his. The diamond in the centre of her engagement ring glistened in the firelight. "Yes. I feel it."

Eugene smiled slightly. "I am sorry. Truly I am. I should have controlled myself better. Tomorrow, let us take a carriage out somewhere quiet, alone, the two of us; then we can get to know one another, as fully as you like."

Cinderella smiled. "That sounds absolutely lovely."

Eugene leaned over, and kissed her on the cheek. "You were very brave today. You might have frightened me half to death, but you were very brave."

"I couldn't do nothing," Cinderella said. "Those awful laws…something has to be done about."

"If there is anything to be done, you will have the opportunity to do it," Eugene said. "When you are my wife."

Cinderella chuckled. "When I am your wife."

 _When, not if. Never if._

* * *

Etienne closed the front door behind him and hung up his busby on the hatstand. Both the old porter and the maid he employed to keep the house had gone home for the night, so there was no one to take his coat; he hung that up sloppily as well, and left his sword in the cane stand where visitor's could leave their walking sticks.

The light coming from the living room told him that there were still people awake within, and so he walked – as softly as he could – in case anyone was sleeping or trying to sleep, until he stood in the doorway.

He found that he needn't have bothered, because all of the inhabitants of the house were still awake: his mother, his sister Marinette, and…

"Lucien," Etienne muttered. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Lucien has come to visit me," mother declared joyously, pulling her younger son down into an embrace and planting sloppy kisses on each cheek. "Such a fine boy, to come see your mother."

Lucien laughed. "Nonsense, maman, I do not see you nearly as often as I should."

"Oh, don't be too hard on yourself, Lucien, I know that you have so much important work to do, you have so many opportunities ahead of you that you have to take. Oh, if only your father were here to see what a fine man you have become." Mother looked up, and half-glared at Etienne from behind her pince-nez. "You're late, Etienne."

"I'm sorry, maman," Etienne said. "There was a disturbance at the palace, it required some work on my part."

"On your part?" Lucien asked. "I thought that Mademoiselle Cinderella sorted out all the confusion?"

"I had work to do after she was finished," Etienne replied frostily. "Seeing to the men who had been mobilised, that sort of thing."

"I'm sorry that you were delayed," Marinette said, rising to her feet. "Welcome home, Etienne."

Etienne embraced her in a one armed hug, kissing her on the forehead. His sister was a maid of but sixteen, with soft brown hair cascading down below her shoulders, and doe eyes of bright hazel. She was dressed simply, in a modest green dress, only slightly frayed and mended, though the stitching was obvious enough to see where the tears had been repaired. It was unfortunate, and it was preventing Marinette's entry into good society, but there was simply no helping it: with the family's finances being what they were, everyone was required to make do and mend more than a little.

"Oh, Etienne," mother said. "Lucien was telling me that he needs a little money, thirty pounds, wasn't it?"

"Only twenty, maman."

"Give him forty, Etienne," mother said. "You deserve to have a little fun."

Etienne's mouth tightened as he glared at Lucien, who shrugged. He sighed. "Yes, maman."

"I'm afraid you've missed supper," Marinette said. "But I've saved you some, even if it is cold."

"Thank you, Marinette."

"Disgraceful, utterly disgraceful," Mother said. She was a plump woman, old and grey, dressed in all enveloping black, complete with a shawl to cover her head and black gloves to protect her from having to touch anything with her bare hands. "Your father was always home promptly for dinner at half-past seven."

"I am a colonel, maman, there are sometimes urgent matters that require my attention."

"A colonel!" mother scoffed. "The head of the Gerard family shouldn't be playing soldiers. You should be here, managing the family estate."

"The family estate is gone or mortgaged up, mother," Etienne replied, with a touch of testiness entering his voice. _Father saw to that with his ruinous speculations._ "My colonel's salary is the only income we have."

Mother waved that away, as she did all inconvenient facts about their reduced living circumstances. "Your brother understands what is expected of a Gerard male? Why can't you be more like your brother?"

 _A sponge and a wastrel, you mean?_ "What would you have me do, maman?"

"Anything! Seek some opportunities. In your father's day this house was filled with callers come to do business with him, but now we rattle around in this place like loose peas on a plate while you are content to sit upon a horse all day doing nothing. Oh, what would he think of us now? Your sister is even talking about getting a job like some common tradeswoman."

"I'm not talking about anything less than respectable, maman," Marinette said. "But the bookshop is-"

"Absolutely not, no daughter of the Gerard family is going to work in a shop," mother declared. "I have other plans for you. Etienne, you must get your sister into the new princess' household."

Etienne blinked. "I…must? How must I?"

"Well ask His Highness, your friendship must be good for something," Mother said.

"It is good for many things, mother, but I'm not sure asking for favours like that is one of them."

"Well what is the point, then?"

"Perhaps I can talk to her," Lucien suggested. "Cinderella and I have already formed a close connection, and I think that Marinette would like her a great deal."

"Oh, Lucien, you're such a good boy," Mother said. "At least I have one son who is faithful and obedient."

Etienne rolled his eyes.

"Marinette, you must have some new dresses if you are to serve the princess," mother said. "We cannot have a Gerard presenting herself to the princess in patched rags and hand-me-downs. Oh, you could go to the young lady's own dressmaker, and that will give you something to talk about."

"I'm not sure that we can afford the expense at the moment," Etienne remarked.

"Nonsense! Why in your father's day I would have a new gown for every ball and gala we attended, and when-"

"Father isn't here, maman," Etienne said sharply. "And neither is all the money that he lost.

"I am well aware of that," Mother moaned. "But when Marinette befriends the new princess, then we shall have all our fortunes and honours restored. Tenfold! So we must salt the mine a little to make your sister presentable to put our case."

"I'm not sure-"

"Oh, I have such a headache!" mother complained, as she always did when she wanted to declare the matter closed and the discussion over. "Lucien, help your aged mother to her bed, won't you?"

"Of course, maman," Lucien said, helping her up out of her armchair. "Here, lean on me."

"Such a sweet boy," mother murmured, as he helped her away. "Such a good, kind, dutiful boy."

Marinette sighed when they were gone, and looked up at him. "Won't you at least try to talk to Prince Eugene? It would please maman?"

"Is this what you want?" Etienne asked. "To pretend to be the princess' friend so that we can get money and favours out of her?"

"I might not have to pretend," Marinette said. "Lucien said she's very nice."

Etienne shrugged. "I suppose you could say she is, but…is this what you want?"

"No," Marinette admitted. "But it will make maman very happy, and…it isn't right that you are the only one who tries to support this family. I want to help anyway I can."

"I don't want to force you to do anything, and mother shouldn't either."

"You're not," Marinette said. "I'm choosing this. For the family."

"For the family," Etienne muttered. "Very well, I will try and talk to His Highness, for you."

* * *

 _Author's Note: the Corn Laws were a real series of English laws, and the battle to repeal them was a major issue of English history in the first half of the 19_ _th_ _Century. Cinderella's fight to secure cheap food for the working class is going to be the major political plot of the story, pitting her against the landed nobility of the realm, but that battle will be complicated by the various personal plots that will start swirling around her._

 _I know that the pace of this story is moving even more slowly than SIAGF did (five chapters in and still no sign of the wedding!), but judging from the reviews (and thank you, thank you all so much, for all of those lovely reviews for the last chapter, it was so nice of you) you all seem to be enjoying it so far, so I hope you'll stick with me on this new journey._


	6. Wearing Her Heart Round Her Neck

Wearing Her Heart Round Her Neck

Cinderella could not sleep. She lay awake, her eyes open, feeling the weight of the covers on top of her, not nearly as heavy as all the fears that kept her mind awhirl and prevented sleep from gaining any purchase on her mind.

Tomorrow…a carriage ride, just the two of them. It sounded lovely. It sounded romantic. It sounded like it could go very badly.

 _We can get to know one another, as fully as you like._

That was all very well, and it was a good idea without a doubt, as today's events had shown, but…but what if he didn't like what he found? What if she didn't? What if he took her out into the countryside and confessed that he liked to torture small animals and rip the wings off birds?

 _What if I told him that I like to talk to mice, and can understanding the chirruping of bluebirds?_

That was a question that would have to be answered. Could she justify keeping a secret like that from him? Could she afford to tell him without knowing how he would react first?

She felt foolish, and afraid. She was only a common girl, only a jumped up scullery maid, what right did she have to treat him the way she had, to turn so cold with him? It would serve her right if he grew tired of her changeable moods and dispatched her back to the kitchens were she belonged.

 _Everything belongs to him. I have nothing but what he gives me._ She had told Lucien that, and spoken true in the telling. Eugene had only to snap his fingers and this grand bed, this extravagant suite of rooms, all the dresses, this beautiful ring, all of it would disappear in an instant and she would be dressed in rags again. And she was risking that by her behaviour. What a fool she was.

Cinderella rolled over, one of the braids of her hair falling across her face, tickling her nose until she raised a hand to brush it out of the way. Foolish perhaps…but did she really want to exchange one life of drudgery for another? Did she want to escape from the service of a cruel stepmother to bind herself to a cruel husband? Were dresses and a ring all that it would take to make her accustomed to unhappiness? Is that what she wanted.

No. What she wanted was to marry a man she loved, who loved and cherished her in her turn. And, God willing, that was what she would have.

She hoped and prayed that it was so.

He was so handsome. He was so courteous, and so kind.

 _Tomorrow will be the proof of it. Tomorrow he will show me all that he is, and I will love it all. And I will show him all that I am, and he will love it all in his turn._

 _I will tell him everything. About the mice, about my fairy godmother, all of it. I will show him all that I am, and he can take it or not as he likes._

Cinderella snorted. Foolish? Afraid? Selfish, is what she ought to feel. Out there, in the streets of the capital, all across the land of Armorique, people were starving, scarce able to buy bread to feed their hungry families. So many people contended with the worry that the wages of their honest labour were not enough to buy a single hearty meal, and here she sat, at the top of one of the tallest towers in the royal palace, dressed in a nightgown of lavender silk, engulfed in a vast four-poster bed, with an entire suite of rooms to call her own, with servants at her beck and call, and the certainty of a sumptuous breakfast awaiting her when she woke up…and yet here she lay, completely absorbed with her own troubles, though they seemed so petty in comparison.

 _There is nothing petty in wanting to be happy. It is what everyone wants, in the end._

 _It's what I will have, starting tomorrow._

 _I hope._

* * *

Cinderella tiptoed with trepidation into the dining hall, holding up the hem of her skirt with one hand so that it rose up just an inch or so off the floor. She was wearing a plain blue dress, sleeveless with small puff shoulders, unadorned by sash or pattern, and she had done nothing with her hair but let it hang loose down her neck, framing her face on either side. Later she would dress a little more but for now...for now she was as she was.

As she walked into the hall she was less than certain as to what reception awaited her. She found His Majesty already seated, only his ham-hands visible on either side of the newspaper spread out before him, obscuring face and body alike from view. Eugene stood just a little behind him, reading over his shoulder. His expression...Cinderella took a moment to realise that he looked surprised. She couldn't say whether it was a pleasant surprise or not.

"Good morning, mademoiselle," murmured the maid who stood, guard-like, upon the door as Cinderella entered.

"Good morning," Cinderella replied, a swift smile fleeting across her face. Unfortunately she could not remember the woman's name. Not remember? She hadn't even been told it in the first place. It wasn't good enough, she would have to learn the names of the people who served her, if only as the first step to treating them better than she herself had been treated.

The maid's greeting had alerted Eugene to her presence - which might have been the point - and his face brightened as he looked up from the paper. "Cinderella," he said, making his way around the table and striding towards her. "Good morning."

Cinderella was not sure how to greet him. It seemed wrong, forced and unnatural after their discussion of last evening, to greet him with gushing girlish enthusiasm, even thhough just looking at him, gazing into those eyes, tugged upon her heartstrings to do just that. On the other hand, he did not deserve coldness, and she had neither need or desire to hurt his feelings. Quite the contrary, she wanted him to be happy but...but if she pretended that last night hadn't happened it would only make things more confusing.

"Good morning, my prince," she said, her tone even, not cold but not too warm either. "I'm sorry if I kept you waiting." She curtsied to His Majesty. "Good morning, Your Majesty."

The King had risen to his feet, putting the newspaper down in front of him. "Good morning, my dear. Don't trouble yourself about the delay, I daresay my stomach can bear it." He patted his belly with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Eugene took her hands in his own, and Cinderella allowed him to kiss her on the cheek. His lips were so tender against her skin...he made it very hard not to swoon over him.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

Cinderella looked down for a moment. "Not terribly well, no. I had a lot to think about."

Eugene's expression twisted into some combination of concern and unhappiness. "I understand," he said. "Please, sit down." He pulled back her chair for her, then pushed it in once she was sat. Cinderella watched him as he walked back around the table to take the seat opposite her.

"You may serve the food now," His Majesty instructed one of the maids.

"At once, Your Majesty," the maid replied, bobbing up and down before she disappeared through a side door.

"While they are doing that, you should take a look at these papers, Cinderella," the King declared, half handing them over and half tossing them in her direction once it became clear that his arms were not quite long enough. "You feature in both of them."

"The interviews are in," Eugene said. "But both seem more interested in your later actions."

Cinderella looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction, whether what was said was good or bad, whether he approved more or less than he had done. He seemed...it was hard to say what he seemed. Cinderella considered that he didn't really know himself how he felt about what was written in the two journals that lay before her.

She hesitantly picked up the Gazette. The front page was dominated by the beginning of an article about the bread riot, giving full attention to the grievances that had made the people so desperate that they had gone to the verge of rioting in the first place. It appeared from the tone of the coverage that the Gazette shared Cinderella's views on the iniquity of deliberately setting the price of bread out of the reach of hard working families. She herself was only mentioned at the end of the piece.

 _Violence was prevented by the intervention of Cinderella Tremaine, whose engagement to His Highness Prince Eugene was announced recently, who obtained a modest concession for the people in the form of a twenty-five percent Subsidy to the price of bread, to be paid by the crown, enabling an equivalent Saving to be passed on to consumers._

 _With that agreed, the people dispersed, to await with hope a day that cannot, we think, arrive a day too soon, when Free Trade shall reign supreme and No Man must starve to feed his children._

There was a little cartoon in the middle of the page, showing two old women, backs hunched, hugging shawls tight around their frail bodies, sitting down before a sparsely laden table.

" _Did you hear?"_ one of them said. _"Thanks to the Crown we can buy bread for a reduced price!"_

" _Maybe one day we'll be able to buy it for a fair price!"_ replied the other.

"I am glad that the Gazette is on the side of the people," Cinderella said. "But I'm not sure why you thought I had to read that just to see one mention of my name." Of course, it was strange enough seeing her name in the papers to begin with, but it hardly seemed to justify Eugene's reaction, let alone that of His Majesty.

"Turn to page five, Cinderella," Eugene instructed her.

Cinderella flicked the pages, making them rattle a little as she turned them until she found the relevant article.

 _ **A People's Princess?**_

 _Royal Bride-to-Be More Than a Pretty Face_

 _by Joachim Valis_

 _Yesterday, I had the privilege of calling at the palace to interview Mademoiselle Cinderella Tremaine, whose engagement to Prince Eugene was announced two days ago amidst much ballyhoo from the palace._

 _Mlle Cinderella was a mystery to me, as indeed to the whole nation. Who was this girl, of whom I had never heard in all my years covering the comings and goings of our so-called social elite, that she should suddenly emerge so dramatically upon the stage, as wife to the heir to the throne and future queen of our nation? Where did she come from? How did she win the heart of the most eligible bachelor in Armorique._

 _I must confess that after speaking to Mlle Cinderella I was left less than impressed. Undeniably beautiful, but equally undeniably unlearned and socially inexperienced to the extreme, Cinderella told me a tale of servitude and ill-treatment, but seemed oblivious to the mistreatment that so many Bretons feel at the hands of the aristocracy that she was soon to join. I must confess, friends, that I left her presence feeling a little dispirited at the prospects for Armorique, if this was the mother of a future king._

 _This only goes to show that sometimes even we gentlemen of the press must eat our words._

 _Judging her not by her words but by her deeds, it becomes clear that Mlle Cinderella is an infinitely finer character than she presents herself, or perhaps is capable of presenting. Though she may lack polish, though she may not be particularly articulate, no one learning of her actions in preventing a massacre of the innocent and securing a concession vital to so many working people, can doubt that here is a woman both brave and quick-thinking, with a sound grasp of right and wrong and a determination, it seems, to do the right thing._

 _When we spoke, I asked Mlle Cinderella if she intended to be a voice for the common people in the corridors of power. Her reply suggested that she was not aware of the need for such, but her actions suggest that she is aware, and is determined to be that voice. I await, with bated breath, her next pronouncement._

Cinderella put the Gazette down, feeling a burning sensation in her cheeks. "I…I'm flattered."

"You should be, my dear, the Gazette hasn't had anything so complimentary to say about this family since the discovery of America," His Majesty said, although any grumbling that his words might have conveyed was dispelled by the playful tone of his voice.

"The voice of the people has spoken, it appears," Eugene murmured. "And through their organ it appears that they thought far more highly of your behaviour than I did. And who am I to quibble with the tribunes of the people? I own myself an ass, and apologise without reserve. Can you forgive me?"

Cinderella allowed a slight smile to cross her lips. "I already have," she murmured, as she reached across the table, resting the tips of her fingers against his hand. It had not really been about his temper, not really, not after the initial shock had worn off. That had only been the spark, that had gotten her thing. It had never been about her forgiving him for getting upset, it was about finding out who they really were to one another.

"Before you grow too pleased with yourself," His Majesty murmured. "You should be aware at the Courier was not quite so complimentary in its coverage."

Cinderella thought back to her conversation with Eugene yesterday morning. "That's the one read by the wealthy, isn't it?"

"It is, and I have to tell you they were rather scathing," the King declared. "You should probably take a look, it's on page nine."

Cinderella opened the paper, and found that she could tell what the article was going to be like when the headline read _Dishmaid Oversteps Her Bound_. It was doubtless very vain to say that she didn't relish reading it, unlike the favourable coverage of the Gazette, but it was true, and Cinderella found herself skimming over sections so as not to have to read too much criticism of herself and her behaviour.

… _Not even royal, and already the future princess has signalled her intention to side with the feckless scroungers and bottom-feeders of society…unconscionable interference with the_ laissez-faire _operation of the market…a grave breach of constitutional protocol, in defiance of all precedent, tradition and indeed decorum…a foolish girl who understands nothing about our nation or, indeed, the world around her…dark times ahead._

"How can they be so cruel?" Cinderella asked, as she put the newspaper down. "Not to me, but to the people? Scroungers? Bottom feeders? How can they say such things about those who are so unfortunate?"

"Because the readers of the Courier are not unfortunate," Eugene said. "And they wish to tell themselves that it is entirely due to their superior natures, not to any good luck, that they are on the top of the heap while others are at the bottom."

"You say that with such contempt," Cinderella murmured, a slight touch of amusement pricking at her voice. "But why do you deserve to be on top of the heap?"

Eugene assumed a mock-offended posture. "We owe our exalted position to divine right, darling. It was the pomposity of the middle class that I was puncturing."

"Of course," Cinderella said, with a tiny chuckle. She hesitated. "So does this mean that the middle class hates me, as their paper does?"

"I shouldn't worry about that too much, most of the middle class is in favour of free trade," Eugene said lightly. "Champion that and you'll be alright with most of them."

"Free trade?" Cinderella said. "Is that another name for repealing the Corn Laws?"

"It's a little broader than that," Eugene said. "There's an excellent book in the library that explains all about it that you should probably read if you're going to take up this cause. I can fetch it for you if you like."

"That would be very kind," Cinderella replied.

The book was called _An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations_ , and Cinderella would have been lying through her teeth if she had said that it was easy reading. Nevertheless, she kept at it for nearly three hours after breakfast, trying to force her mind around the complex sentence structures and unfamiliar ideas. She was not, sad to say, a great reader. When she was a girl her father had read to her, and taught her how to read, but he had died when she was less than eleven years old, and for the next eight years of her life she had read little more complicated than her Stepmother's shopping list. So it was a bit of a struggle to suddenly try to understand sentences like _The annual labour of every nation is the fund which originally supplies it with all the necessaries and conveniencies of life which it annually consumes, and which consist always either in the immediate produce of that labour, or in what is purchased with that produce from other nations._ Which she had to read three times, and it was only the first paragraph of the books. But she persevered, if only to prove wrong those like the reporter from the Courier who said that she was foolish. Uneducated, yes, she would admit to that without shame, considering the reason why she was uneducated, but foolish? She would not admit to that, not without trying to prove to be better first.

Nevertheless, Cinderella felt a little relieved and guiltily glad when the clock struck half-past ten and she could put the ponderous book aside and return to her room to get ready for her carriage ride with Eugene.

Cinderella was not blind to the irony that, having rebuked her fiancee for knowing little about her beyond her good looks, she was prettying herself up in preparation for an occassion meant in part to allow him to see beyond that. But, whatever the purpose of the day, she was still betrothed to a prince, and that conveyed an obligation on her to look beautiful on certain occassions for her future husband. And besides, it wasn't as if she actually had any objection to her own beauty, or to looking pretty; she just didn't want it to be the sum total of who and what she was.

And so she stood still and breathed inwards, tucking in a stomach that had never been more than small while Duchamp laced a corset tightly around her waist. Then, her lady's maid fitted Cinderella into one of the fancier dresses that Lucrecia had so far produced. Fancy, elegant, but not elabourate. Bodice and skirt alike were white, pristine and perfect, and both very little adorned by anything in the way of colour. The skirt was tulle, almost pleated in the way that the folds fell, and expanded from the waist in a broad A-line that circled all around Cinderella, helped in its shape by the lace petticoat underneath, and a light blue bustle engulfing the tulle around the hips. The bodice was a little thicker and sturider than the lighty and airy skirt - so light in fact that the fabric seemed half opaque - with the difference being as that between a white snow and a white mist. It pushed Cinderella's bust upwards and a little outwards, but the sight of anything was concealed behind the ruffled collar, white trimmed with blue, that clung to her shoulders while leaving her pale arms bare.

Around Cinderella's waist was tied a wide blue sash, tightly bound into a gigantic bow behind her back, drooping a little in an artful fashion behind her. To the front of the sash, where the buckle on a belt would have been, was affixed an orante silver clasp, set with moonstones that sparkled with the light caught them.

A pair of white high-heeled slippers, adorned with blue bows upon the toes, embraced her feet even though they were concealed from view by the voluminous tulle skirt, and a pair of white silk gloves, that extended to a few inches beyond the wrist, completed the outfit.

"Thank you, Duchamp," Cinderella murmured, as she regarded herself critically in the full length mirror. "What do you think?"

"I think it looks splendid, ma'am, and will be perfect once we get your hair and makeup sorted," Marie Elise said, trying to chivy Cinderella to the nearby dressing table.

"You don't think it's too much?" Cinderella asked.

Marie Elise chuckled. "On you, ma'am, I doubt that anything would look too much."

Bruno barked in agreement.

Cinderella chuckled, as she bent down to scratch the faithful old bloodhound behind the ears. "Thank you, Bruno, that's very sweet."

Marie Elise cleared her throat, and gestured to the dressing table.

"Yes, of course," Cinderella murmured. "Sorry, Duchamp."

"It's no trouble, ma'am," Marie Elise said. "But we don't want you to be late, do we?"

"No," Cinderella said softly, as she sat down upon the padded stool, feeling her bustle compress underneath her as her reflection in the vanity stared back at her. Blue eyes, pink lips, fair skin in a pretty dress.

 _Is my best quality staring back at me?_

Cinderella felt something squeezing her arm, just below the shoulder. It was Marie Elise, a reassuring smile upon her face as she looked down on Cinderella.

"It…it's hardly my place, ma'am, but I've known His Highness since he was a boy. He's a fine young man. You'll be very happy with him, I'm sure."

"Perhaps," Cinderella said, with a nod of her head. "But will he be happy with me?"

The smile on Marie Elise's face did not waver. "I've no doubt of that at all, ma'am."

Cinderella smiled gently, as she reached up and took her maid's hand in her own. "Thank you, Duchamp, you're very kind. I can't express enough how grateful I am."

"It's nothing at all, ma'am," Marie Elise replied. "Now, I have an idea for something with your eyes, with your permission: a touch of purple."

"Purple?" Cinderella replied, unsure of whether or not that would work. But Marie Elise probably knew much more about this sort of thing than she did, and so she nodded. "Alright, let's give it a try."

Marie Elise applied a touch of beige pencil to the lower line of her lashes, which made Cinderella's eyes look wider, before lining her eyes with a light touch of purple, which made Cinderella's eyes widen in truth as she saw how striking it was: much more so than the blue that she had insisted upon two nights ago – which had gotten a bit lost in her eye colour – the purple lining really brought out the blue in her eyes.

"Oh, that's looks wonderful," she gasped.

"Something to thing about for your wedding, ma'am, if you like it," Marie Elise said, as she moved on to apply a gentle touch of pink blush to Cinderella's cheeks, and the slightest touch of reddening to her lips. "And your hair, ma'am."

"As it is," Cinderella said. "But with the white hairband to hold it back."

Marie Elise's frown was almost imperceptible. "That's…that's a little provincial ma'am, don't you think."

Cinderella chuckled. "Yes, it probably is. But then, I'm a little provincial myself, don't you think?"

Marie Elise did not reply, she simply combed Cinderella's hair out, and then put on a white hairband, with a pretty bow on top of it, like the one she had planned to use to go with her pink dress to wear to the ball, before her stepsisters had destroyed both dress and hairband both. Maybe it wasn't the most sophisticated thing in the world, but Cinderella liked her hair this way, and she thought it set off everything else quite nicely.

 _A little sophisticated, a little not; this is who I am._

"Thank you, Duchamp," she said, as she gazed at everything in the mirror, tilting her face upwards, then side to side. "This is lovely."

Marie Elise curtsied. "A pleasure, ma'am."

"Now, would you please excuse me?" Cinderella said. "I need a moment or two alone."

If Marie-Elise found the request odd, she did not say so, she simply curtsied again. "Very good, ma'am. Ring the bell if you require anything."

"Of course. Thank you again, Duchamp."

"Ma'am," Marie Elise murmured as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Cinderella listened carefully for the sound of muffled footsteps on the carpet covered stairs beyond, before she bent down on the stool, looking for the mouse hole that afford her friends access to her spacious apartments.

"Jaq?" she called softly, not wanting to be overheard. "Gus? Suzy? Are you there?"

It was Jaq who scurried out of the hole, missing his familiar orange jacket. Nevertheless he smiled at her. "Cinderelly look more beautiful than normal today, something special."

"You could say that," Cinderella said. "I'm going for a carriage ride with Eugene. Do you like it?"

Jaq nodded quickly. "Pretty-pretty, Cinderelly."

"Oh, good," Cinderella replied. "What happened to your jacket?"

Jaq scowled. "Lost it getting away from black cat."

Cinderella's eyes widened. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No, me and everybody fine," Jaq said. "But that cat smart, Cinderelly, smarter than Lucifee by a lot. Wesa seen other cats around, but black one scares me."

Cinderella frowned. "Be careful, all of you. And I'll make you a new jacket when I get back."

"No need for Cinderelly to go to the trouble-"

"It's no trouble, it's the least I can do," Cinderella replied, in a tone that brooked no argument. "Now, the reason I called is that I need to speak to you quickly…I've decided to tell Eugene about you. I need to be honest with him, about who I am. But I couldn't possibly tell him unless I knew that you didn't mind him finding out."

"Jaq not mind," Jaq said. "Jaq not know anyone who'd mind. Jaq like to meet Cinderelly's prince. Jaq tell him 'You better take good care of Cinderelly, or else!'"

Cinderella laughed, covering her mouth demurely with one gloved hand to cover the laughter spilling out of her mouth. "Oh, thank you, Jaq, I needed that." She beamed down at him, her oldest and her dearest friend. "Thank you, Jaq. I can tell him now…I don't know what Eugene will say, but I can't keep you from him." She stood up. "And now I have to go, or else he'll start to wonder what I'm doing."

"Have fun, Cinderelly!"

"I'll try," Cinderella replied.

She rushed down the many, many stairs down from the tower, careful neither to trip over her dress nor slip in her high-heeled slippers. Once she reached the bottom of the palace, and came in view of more guards and servants, she slowed her pace to something a little more dignified, and felt quite pleased with herself at being able to find her own way to the front door after only two days in the labyrinthine palace.

She found Eugene waiting for her outside, in front of a small and spindly open topped carriage, painted in gold and cream with the complex royal coat of arms emblazoned on the door. A coachman already waited in the driver's seat, while a servant was busily fastening a picnic hamper to the rear of the carriage.

Eugene himself was dressed in what looked like some kind of uniform: his jacket was green, with gold epaulettes, a high scarlet collar and a red breast like a robin. His trousers were cream, and his black boots went as high as his knees. A white sash hung from his shoulder. The only thing missing was a sword.

"Ah, Cinderella, there you are," he said, as Cinderella walked down the stone steps towards him.

Cinderella stopped. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting."

"Not at all, not at all," Eugene said quickly. "You look lovely."

"Thank you," Cinderella replied, smiling a little as she spread her dress out. "You look very dashing yourself."

Eugene chuckled. "It's my uniform as Colonel-in-Chief of the Crown Prince Dragoons. It's a little ostentatious, perhaps, but I like it."

"I'm hardly one to talk about ostentatious, am I?" Cinderella said. "You wear it very well."

"Much obliged, darling," Eugene said. "Shall we go."

"Of course."

Eugene took her hand as she climbed into the carriage. Cinderella smoothed out her skirt as she sat down on the padded red velvet cushions. Eugene climbed in after her, but left a little space between them as he, in his turn, sat down. Perhaps he felt it would have been too forward to have done anything else, but it did make Cinderella if she had gone a little too far.

"Let's go, Marmont," Eugene said.

The coachman shifted around in his seat to look at them both. He had a shiny red nose, and his eyes were lidded as though he was half asleep. He gave a hiccup before he said, "As you say, Your Highness." He cracked the reins, and the pair of black horses lurched forward, carrying the open carriage through the gates and out of the palace. They clattered quickly out of the town and into the open countryside beyond. The sun was shining bright, and the light cast Cinderella's white dress as something almost ethereal in its beauty. They were carried through lushly rolling fields and mist-enshrouded moor lands, where the grass was pale and the sky was grey, and down country lanes between hedgerows filled with birds and mice and voles. They passed by thick, impenetrable woods, and over rolling hills above the dales where brooks and rivers babbled by. For Cinderella, who had never really been allowed far beyond her house since her father had died, it was an amazing experience. For years her whole life had been constrained by the distance between her house and the shops it was necessary for her to go to get food and other necessaries for her stepmother and stepsisters. Now, to see so much countryside spread out before her, to be able to see so much and go so far…it was so incredible she almost didn't believe it.

She turned her attention away from the beautiful scenery for a moment, looking at Eugene, and seeing that while she had been watching the countryside he had been watching her. He was still watching her. Cinderella looked down, a little embarrassed, and busied herself by smoothing out her skirt with her both hands.

"I something wrong?" she asked.

"No," Eugene replied. "No, I…" he laughed nervously. "I've just no idea how to begin."

Cinderella looked up, a smile on her lips, but before she could say anything she saw something beyond the carriage that made her gasp. "Stop! Stop the coach!"

The coachman cursed and spluttered as he hauled on the reins, bringing the carriage to a complete stop with a jolt so sudden that Cinderella nearly slid off the seat.

"What's the matter?" Eugene asked.

Cinderella pointed out past him. "Look." Out there, beyond the carriage, on a low rise still half-enshrouded by the mist that, though in retreat, still clung to some of the gorgeous moor through which they travelled, stood a white hart.

He was magnificent, with antlers white as ivory and nearly as tall again as the hart himself. He did not flee from them, he did not move at all; but he was watching them, quite clearly, is gaze fixed upon the royal coach, staring sternly down upon their carriage like a god or a king.

"My god," Eugene murmured. "Who would believe it?"

"Isn't it wonderful?" Cinderella said breathlessly.

"Yes," Eugene said. He glanced at her, a boyish smile illuminating his face. "Would you like to get closer?"

"Is that safe?"

"Of course it is, you're with me," Eugene said lightly. "Marmont, wait here." He pushed open the carriage door and leapt out down to the grass. Cinderella half expected the hart to flee, but it remained in its position like a sentinel, observing them but not reacting.

Eugene turned, holding out his hands to help her down from the carriage, easing her down until she felt her feet touch the soft grass beneath. He held her hand, and she held up her skirt with the other, as they walked quickly, but cautiously at the same time, so as not to disturb the hart, towards the ridge where it kept station.

And then the white hart itself began to move. Not to flee, to escape from them, but to come straight towards them. At first, seeing how large it was, how strong it looked, how it advanced upon them without hesitation or deviation from its course, Cinderella felt a little nervous. As it came her heart quailed, and for a moment she wanted to turn and run. But then, as the stag got closer still, she noticed how his white coat gleamed, how he seemed to shine like moonlight, and as he got closer Cinderella found that she was not afraid any more. In face, a sense of otherworldly calm had descended upon her, a lifting of all cares from off her shoulders, a joy like summertime. A calmness that the hart had brought with him settled on her, and none of her worries of the day or the night before seemed to really matter any more.

The hart drew near, close enough to touch, and as his dark eyes stared into Cinderella's own orbs she got the sense, the unprovable but, to her, undeniable sense that he wouldn't mind if she did touch him. She reached out, the ring upon her finger gleaming, and lightly ran her hand through that beautiful white coat.

She felt…she almost felt as though she could cry.

 _Take heart, child of grace, you are more blessed by fortune than you know._

Cinderella gasped, unsure of whether to quite believe what she thought she had heard…and then there was a sudden gust of wind, and just as if he had been some kind of an illusion, as though he had never been, the hart was gone.

Cinderella took a step back, one hand upon her heart. "He vanished. He was there, wasn't he?"

"I think so," Eugene murmured. He himself looked…Cinderella couldn't be certain, but she thought that he, too, looked as though he had been relieved of care by the coming of the hart. "Bizarre."

"But wonderful, at the same time," Cinderella said. "He was beautiful, wasn't he?"

"I…I would not call him beautiful," Eugene replied.

"I would," Cinderella said. "That's why I asked the coachman to stop the carriage, even before I really knew what it was, because I saw something beautiful up there and I needed to see it better. I've always loved beauty."

"Beauty in what?"

"Everything," Cinderella said. "When I was very young, I could spend hours watching my mother get dressed. She had so many wonderful gowns and dresses, and she looked beautiful in all of them. Beautiful dresses, beautiful flowers, beautiful jewels, beautiful music – I love music, I couldn't live without it. And the beauty of…well, all of this." She spread her arms out wide, and her dress flowed out around her as she twirled on the spot. "This land, this countryside, don't you think it's so beautiful?"

Eugene looked around, a wry smile making his eyes light up. "I'm afraid I'll have to take your word for it, my dear."

"And of course, your beauty, too," Cinderella said softly.

Eugene's eyebrows rose. "I've been called handsome many times, but never beautiful."

"Yes, but I didn't say I'd always loved handsomeness, did I?" Cinderella said.

Eugene let out a bark of laughter. "No, no I suppose you didn't." He took her hand once more, and they began to walk across the fields.

"When I was a girl I think I drove my parents mad whenever they would take me into town," Cinderella said. "Not because I used to scream or complain or throw tantrums…but because I would spend far, far too long in every dress shop that we came to, just staring at so much loveliness all around, drinking it all in. There were some places that I never wanted to leave." She looked down, and with her free hand tucked a few of her strawberry blonde locks back behind her shoulder. "I suppose I ought to thank my Stepmother…without her making a servant of me I probably would have become a very selfish, shallow girl, moving from ball to concert to dress fitting and back again without giving a thought to anything else."

"But instead?"

"Instead, I learnt to care for others," Cinderella said. "I don't mean my stepsisters, although I suppose you could say that I cared for them, since I was doing all the work. I'm talking about…"

"Cinderella?"

Now they came to it. "I…I can speak to animals," Cinderella said.

Eugene's eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?"

"Don't look at me like that, it's true," Cinderella said, with just a touch of indignation in her voice. "Not all animals, but some. Bruno, my dog. Some birds, especially bluebirds. And mice. I can talk to mice. There are…there are about a score of them in the palace now, they followed me there. I can take care of them, I have for years. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to think that I was strange but…but since we decided to get to know each other properly…I decided that it was best to be honest."

Eugene's expression was inscrutable. "Well…I have to confess that that is certainly the first time a girl has told me anything like that."

"You do believe me, don't you?" Cinderella asked. "I can prove it; I'll show them to you once we get back to the palace."

"I don't believe that you would lie about something so…unusual," Eugene replied. "Though I have to admit I'm not sure why you'd want to speak to mice?"

"Because when you're all alone and a servant to your own family, any friend is a welcome one," Cinderella replied. "And because…well, because they didn't have anyone else either. Jaq, he's the mouse who has been with me longest, he was all alone when I first met him. Hungry, cold, homeless…I couldn't just turn my back on him, leave him out in the cold, chase him away. He was there, and he was helpless, and so I had to help him. That…I suppose that's who I am, and I suppose it goes for people as well as animals."

"And that's why you put yourself at risk yesterday?" Eugene asked.

"Yes, I suppose it must be," Cinderella said. "I couldn't have run away and pretended that I didn't see it. It would have been wrong. I suppose that that is what being a servant taught me: some things need help before they can be beautiful."

Eugene shook his head. "I don't believe that it took servitude to teach you kindness."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I don't believe that you can be taught to be as kind as you are, if you are not born such," Eugene said. He grinned. "I'm still not sure what to make about talking to animals, though."

"You'll laugh on the other side of your face when you see it in action," Cinderella said. She smiled. "Anyway, surely it must be your turn now."

Eugene began to lead her back towards the carriage. "Did you wonder why I decided to wear this to take you out in? A military uniform, for a carriage ride with my bride to be?"

"I thought it must be something you liked wearing," Cinderella said softly.

"Oh, it is, but that's the point," Eugene said. "When I was a boy, I must say that I never spent hours in dress shops staring at all the gorgeous gowns. When I was young I annoyed my parents by riding my pony inside the palace."

Cinderella giggled. "Really?"

"Yes, when we get home I'll show you the corridor where Etienne and I had a race down it," Eugene said lightly. "My backside hurt for a week afterwards when my father was through with me." When Cinderella had finished laughing he continued. "I also used to climb into the old suits of armour in the halls. I nearly got stuck more than once, but it didn't stop me."

"Because you were adventurous?"

"Because I wanted to be a warrior prince, not a politician like father," Eugene said. "I was very disappointed to find out that the age of warrior princes was over and done. And so I strut about in uniforms, gallivant up and down the country, and leave all the real business of government to my father. I'm afraid you're marrying a rather irresponsible prince."

"I suppose that a girl with no knowledge or experience is not a good match for you, then," Cinderella murmured.

"I think a girl as kind as you might be just the match I need," Eugene said. "To make me less inconsiderate."

"I don't believe that you're inconsiderate. You've…you've really been nothing but considerate of me, of my comfort, and my happiness. I haven't always appreciated it, and I'm sorry, but you've been so attentive to me that you can't possibly think that you're inconsiderate, in any way."

Eugene looked into her eyes, and laughed. "It seems we share the trait of being self deprecating."

Cinderella chuckled. "Yes, I suppose we do."

They returned to the waiting carriage, and once more Eugene helped Cinderella up first. He climbed in beside her, sitting with her hand clasped in his, and when Cinderella leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, he did not object. Indeed, she felt him kiss her on the top of the head, his lips pressing against her hair, and she smiled and closed her eyes as the coach moved on.

They stopped again, beside an idyllic river bank, where rushes grew out of the water, and the river itself was crystal blue, reflecting the sunlight as it flowed swiftly past the green pastures on either side. Eugene took down the picnic hamper, and spread out a vast red and white chequered blanket. Cinderella knelt down on a corner of the blanket, managing to get some untouched space as the lavish spread was set out before her: sandwiches and cakes and fruit and salad and quiche and pie and certainly too much food for two people. Cinderella made a note to ask about donating the leftovers to the poor when they returned to the palace.

For now, however, they kept talking.

"I don't suppose you've read _Ivanhoe_?" Eugene asked.

Cinderella dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "No, I haven't. I probably haven't read any of the books that a young lady ought to have."

"I wouldn't say that it is a book a young lady ought to have read," Eugene said. "But it is good fun if you can pry yourself away from dry economics. Full of chivalrous knights and fair maidens. And very popular too, so popular that…" he laughed. "So popular that, as ridiculous as it sounds, it's prompted a number of us to try and bring back jousting."

"Jousting?" Cinderella asked. "Are you telling me that you joust?"

"Not often," Eugene said. "But I'm hoping that it will become more popular."

"But isn't it dangerous?"

"Not if you know what you're doing," Eugene said. "I told you, I wanted to be a warrior prince. This is really the next best thing."

Cinderella didn't really know what to say to that, and allowed the conversation to turn to other things. She decided, in the end, not to tell Eugene about her fairy godmother or her magic. It wasn't right to keep it a secret, but coming hard on the heels of the mice and birds she was worried that it might all prove a bit too much. She consoled herself with the knowledge that she was fairly certain that there were things he wasn't telling her either, and honestly…that didn't matter. What mattered was that she was finding out what sort of person he was, and she liked what she found. The mice…that told him what sort of person she was, much more than magic did, and it seemed that he liked what he was finding too.

"Close your eyes," Eugene said. "And lift up your hair."

"Excuse me?"

"Close your eyes," Eugene repeated. "And lift your hair up, out of the way of your neck."

"But why?"

"Because I have a gift for you."

"Oh, that's so kind of you, but you shouldn't," Cinderella said. "We're not even married yet."

"This is for the wedding, now go on," Eugene insisted. "Eyes closed; hair out of the way."

Cinderella lifted up her mass of hair, and held it in place as she felt him stringing something around her neck. Something round, like beads. Or pearls. Where they pearls? To think of her, Cinderella, wearing pearls, it was like a dream.

"Now open your eyes."

Cinderella opened her eyes.

Eugene smiled. "Absolutely beautiful."

Cinderella laughed. "All very well for you to say, I can't see. Do you have a mirror with you?"

Eugene looked abashed. "No, I didn't think to bring one."

Cinderella smiled fondly even as she shook her head. She got up and walked towards the river.

"Be careful." Eugene said.

Cinderella giggled. "I'm not the one who forgot to bring a mirror."

She walked gracefully to the riverbank, and leaned out over the water. Cinderella smiled, and gasped as she saw the lovely necklace that her prince had given her.

"Oh!" she cried. "It's beautiful!"

They were pearls, large pearls, each one a little larger than the tip of her thumb, strung twice around her neck, once tightly round her throat and a second time hanging down a little more loosely. And in the centre of the second string of pearls was a sapphire the size of a pebble, as blue as the bluest of oceans, cut in the shape of a heart.

Cinderella fussed with her new necklace, tugging on the necklace this way and that, turning her head to the left and to the right, looking down at her reflection from every until it looked absolutely perfect.

Eugene appeared beside her. "Every bride should have something blue for her wedding day." He reached up and clasped a bracelet, four rows of tiny sparkling diamonds, around her arm just above her glove. "This…this I just wanted to give to you."

"Oh, now you're just spoiling me," Cinderella said. "You shouldn't." She smiled. "When I told you that I loved beautiful that wasn't a hint for you to start giving me presents."

"I know." Eugene placed his hand upon her arm, making Cinderella's heart beat a little bit faster. "But I do it anyway."

Cinderella looked up at him. "They're lovely, both of them. Thank you."

Eugene leaned down and kissed her, a sensation so wonderful that for Cinderella it felt almost like being whisked away to another place, another time. To a kingdom of happiness.

"Cinderella," he murmured.  
"My prince," Cinderella whispered.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes," Cinderella said. "Part of me would like to stay longer but, yes, we can go now."

Cinderella climbed into the carriage ahead of Eugene, as she had done twice before today. But then, before Eugene could follow her, before Cinderella could sit down, the horses started to panic, the black mares rearing up and stamping their hooves, snorting and whinnying, making the carriage tremble with their movements.

Eugene, who had been about to put his foot on the carriage step, walked closer to the horses instead. "What's the matter with them?"

The coachman hiccupped again. "I don't rightly know, your highness. Calm down there, calm down." He began to saw on the reins, tugging them back and forth, but this only seemed to make the horses worse, as did cracking the whip.

"What's the matter?" Cinderella asked.

"I don't know, but you should get down until they've calmed down," Eugene said. "Give me your-"

And then the horses started to run.

With a whinny and a snort they were off, their hooves pounding on the dirt road as they ran. Cinderella cried out as she was thrown against the cushioned carriage seat as the open-topped coach was pulled along in the wake of the two mad horses, their heads tossing and their tails flicking, snorting and snuffling as they dragged coach and its two occupants along in a panicked rush to who knew where.

Cinderella could see Eugene running after them, his legs pounding furiously, but he seemed to be falling further behind with every passing moment.

"Woah there! Woah girls! Hold up! Stop!" the coachman yelled, pulling on the reins to no effect.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Cinderella asked.

The coachman looked at her, his red nose shining. "There is one thing I can do," he said, and then he leapt from the driver's seat, hitting the ground with a thump and a cry of pain as he rolled along.

Cinderella was now alone in the carriage as it rolled hectically along, getting closer and closer to the swift flowing river with every step the panicked horses galloped along. The open carriage door flapped, thumping as it banged against the side of the coach. The horses seemed to getting faster now, certainly they showed no sign of stopping as they galloped along.

"Cinderella!" Eugene called out to her, as he chased after the runaway carriage. "You have to jump!"

Cinderella swallowed, and put her hands upon the edges of the carriage. The ground swept by beneath her and beyond her. The wind gusted through her hair, blowing it into her face and out behind her. The carriage rocked and rattled as it moved along at astonishing speed, so much faster than the pleasant pace that they had started out with.

It was going so fast, and she looked so high up. She couldn't jump. She couldn't. She…was too afraid.

"Cinderella, jump!" Eugene yelled.

Cinderella was frozen with fear, unable to do anything but stare as the runaway carriage carried her away.

There was an almighty bump, a crack, and then the horses were screaming and Cinderella felt the carriage lurch sideways, tipping upwards and then she was being thrown outwards, out of the carriage…and out over the water.

Cinderella screamed as she flew through the air, her arms flailing wildly, and hit the water like a hard slap. She splashed and thrashed and tried to cry out, but she only swallowed river water when she opened her mouth and then she was under the water and she could hardly breathe. Her corset was so tight around her body that there was hardly any room for breath, and the water was pulling her down, pulling her along, as though some invisible force had gotten hold of her. She kicked with her legs, but they were getting tangled in her petticoat as it got soaked with water. Her dress felt as though it was weighing her down. She flung her arms out wildly as the river began to sweep her away at the same time as it was tugging her downwards.

Her wildly flailing hand caught hold of something, and instinctively Cinderella grabbed hold of it; she caught a glimpse of something a face, a flash of green a burst of red, and then she was being pulled upwards and then she was gasping for breath as Eugene pulled her out of the water and carried her up to the riverbank and onto dry land.

"It's alright," he said, as she clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her chest rising and falling as she took deep breaths. "It's alright. I've got you."

"Thank you," Cinderella said, closing her eyes as water dripped down from her bedraggled hair to fall into her eyes and down her face. "Thank you."

Eugene knelt down, and set Cinderella down upon the ground, though she continued to cling to him as though she would be swept away by the river again the moment she let go.

"It's alright now," he said. "You're safe."

"I know," Cinderella whispered, burying her head against his chest. "I'm with you."

He kissed her on the forehead. "Yes. Yes, you are."

"How could I ever have doubted?" Cinderella asked.

"What?"

"That you were the one that I was meant for," Cinderella murmured.

* * *

 _Author's Note: the conclusion of this chapter might seem like pointless melodrama but, although it is certainly melodrama, it will also play a crucial part in the climax of the story, however far off that is now._

 _There really was an attempt to revive jousting in the 19_ _th_ _century, driven in part by the incredible popularity of Ivanhoe, the Harry Potter of its day._

 _Only one more chapter until the wedding!_


	7. Begging for Favours

Begging for Favours

"Lucien!" Cinderella cried, setting down her ivory comb as soon as she spotted him in the mirror, standing in the doorway with his hands clasped behind his back. She turned to face him. "What are you doing here, and so early?" It was not even eight o'clock yet – of course, in her stepmother's house she would have been up and working for two hours already, but in the palace things moved slower, while Cinderella still found herself waking early, so she tended to read for those two hours or so until breakfast time - and she was still in her lavender nightgown, combing the night-time tangles out of her hair.

Lucien smiled boyishly. "I am a creature of long nights and early mornings. I heard that you had had an accident yesterday and I couldn't sleep for worrying about you. I had to make sure that you were alright."

Cinderella smiled at him as she rose to her feet, smoothing out her nightgown with both hands. "That's very sweet of you indeed, but as you can see I'm perfectly fine."

Lucien frowned. "Then there was no trouble yesterday?"

"No, no there was," Cinderella murmured. "And it...it was frightening, at first." She didn't particularly want to think about it. The water, the current, her flailing her arms uselessly as she was dragged down, unable to breathe, lungs straining. It had just been awful. "But Eugene saved me before anything truly terrible happened. And now." She spread her arms out wide and twirled on the spot for him like a ballerina. "As you can see, I'm fine."

"And I am truly thankful for it," Lucien said, stepping lightly into Cinderella's bedchamber. "Though it means that I do not have any particular reason now to give you this get well gift." He produced from behind his back a bouquet of thirteen roses: five pink, three white, two lavender, one salmon-coloured and one dark red; and in the centre of the bouquet, a rose that was yellow with a red edge to each of its blossoming petals. The aroma was fragrant, and already beginning to fill up the room with a sweet smell. "I hope you will enjoy them anyway."

Cinderella gasped as she took the bouquet out of his hands, putting the blooms to her nose as she breathed in that gorgeous smell. "Oh, Lucien, these are lovely. How did you know roses were my favourite?"

Lucien laughed. "I didn't, though you are such a fair rose I thought it would not be possible that you did not appreciate roses."

"Thank you, Lucien, you're so very kind. Excuse me," Cinderella said, and he made way for her so that she could reach the bell pull that hung down beside the side of her bed. Cinderella gave the cord a single gentle tug, and dimly heard the tinkling of a bell somewhere in one of the lower rooms of the tower below.

It was not too long before Constance arrived, one of her chambermaids, with pale flaxen hair and a look of perpetual weariness on her face. "Yes, ma'am, is there anything you require?"

"Could you please find me a vase and water for these please, Constance?" Cinderella asked.

Constance curtsied. "Of course, ma'am, I'll see to it right away." She turned away, and walked briskly down the stairs without ever seeming to be in a hurry.

"An army of servants at your command, yet I find you combing your own hair?" Lucien asked. "Is there no one who takes care of such things?"

"Oh, yes, and Marie Elise is very good, as well as being a darling," Cinderella replied. "But it seems so very high handed to make her climb up these stairs just to run a comb or brush through my hair. If I needed something more complicatated then, yes, I would need her help, but even children learn to comb their hair without assistance."

"But you won't be arranging your own hair on your wedding day, I trust."

Cinderella giggled. "No. Just two days time, I can hardly believe it. The day after tomorrow I will be married."

"And a princess."

"Yes," Cinderella murmured. "But that isn't what really matters. It's the wedding ring I really want, not the crown."

"But of course," Lucien said. "Are you nervous?"

"A little," Cinderella confessed. "But mostly I'm just so excited, like a child waiting for christmas, I don't know how I'll get any sleep these next two nights."

"All is well, then, between you and the prince?"

Cinderella nodded her head. "It is," she said. "He saved my life. He dove into a river to rescue me. What is that, if it is not love?"

"And you love him?"

"When I was in the water," Cinderella said. "When I was being pulled down and carried away...I was so frightened. I didn't want to die. I didn't want to die and never see Eugene again, feel his arms around me and his lips against mine. Yes, yes I love him."

For a moment, something appeared in Lucien's eyes that seemed almost like disappointment, but it past as quickly as it had come and Cinderella was sure that she must have imagined it. He said, "Then I wish you every happiness in your life to come." He hesitated, looking for a moment more boy than man. "And now I must make a confession."

"A confession?" Cinderella asked. "What kind of confession?"

Lucien looked down at his feet for a moment, brushing some of his soft brown hair back behind his ears. "I came here, so early, because I heard that you had been heard and I had to see if it was true…and yet I would have come to see you anyway, though perhaps not at this hour, because I must ask a favour of you."

Cinderella's finger felt the soft prick of a thorn on one of the roses in her hand, and she shifted the position of her hand as she said, "A favour? Of course, Lucien, anything that I can do, I will."

Lucien smiled, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "You should not be so quick with your kindness; shrewd folk will take advantage of your generosity."

Cinderella chuckled. "Maybe you're right, but I don't think I need to be careful around you. You were kind to me when you had no reason to be. I trust you. What do you need?"

"I need nothing, the favour is not for me," Lucien said. "It is my sister Marinette."

"You have a sister," Cinderella said. "I didn't realise."

"Etienne does not speak of her? I swear he is ashamed of every single member of his family."

"That's rather unfair of you; I haven't had a chance to really talk to Colonel Gerard yet."

"Perhaps," Lucien said idly. "But I do have a sister and Marinette is her name. A sweet girl, pretty but shy, practically housebound by the family circumstances and our thrifty brother. Unable to go out, unable to show herself in society, unable to dance, to live, to enjoy herself."

"Oh, dear," Cinderella murmured, thinking of her own confinement and servitude at the hands of her stepmother, the way that the walls of her own house had become an iron cage hemming her in, holding her captive, crushing all her hopes and dreams beneath the pressure they exerted upon her. "That sounds terrible."

"It is," Lucien said. "Etienne talks about saving money but what use is money if it is never used to bring joy to him that has it?"

Cinderella wasn't so sure about that, her stepfamily had squandered all of the money that her father had left them on bringing joy to themselves, but in the end none of it had actually brought them any lasting joy. New gowns in the latest fashions had delighted them for an hour or two, but when the eligible young men of society had cut them at the balls and spurned them at the receptions they had always been sunk into black depressions from which only the opportunity to be cruel to Cinderella could rouse them.

Still, she chose not to argue the point with Lucien, but instead said, "I'm sure that your brothers means well."

"Probably, but he also thinks that he knows best, even when he does not," Lucien said.

"I'm still not sure what I can do," Cinderella said. "Would you like me to talk to Colonel Gerard?"

"No, this isn't about Etienne, this is about Marinette," Lucien said. "She needs to get out of the house, she needs to meet people, she needs a friend, someone kind and generous to offer her a helping hand. I was hoping, Cinderella, that you might be that friend, that you might take her under your wing as one of your ladies in waiting when you come into your marital crown."

Cinderella blinked. "Lucien, that's a quite surprising thing to ask…" she understood that she would not be given any kind of a choice in the appointment of her ladies in waiting, but rather they would be appointed for her by the King. "I don't even know if I have any say in the matter."

"They are _your_ ladies," Lucien said. "Surely your word must count for something?"

"Maybe, I'm not sure…"

"It is very hard, seeing Marinette in her present low state," Lucien said. "Such a kind girl, such a ray of sunshine. It pains me to watch her light go out."

Cinderella frowned, thinking of her own light, and how the oppressive treatment and constant abuse from her stepfamily had come close to putting it out, would have put it out if it had not been for her fairy godmother. When she had realised that, amidst all her chores, she had not had time to make a dress for the ball and so would be able to attend…then she had felt so low. And then, when her stepsisters had torn to tattered rags the lovely dress her friends had made for her, her mother's dress which they had, for love of her, done up into something newer and more beautiful, why then…coming so close after her joy at the gift her friends had given her, it had been like going from soaring high amongst the clouds to having her wings torn off and left to plummet into the deepest, darkest pit. As she had buried her head in her arms and sobbed her arms out…a part of her had begun to wonder what the point was, if each new morning brought neither joy nor happiness nor any hope of either but merely a never-ending drudge of constant misery.

She couldn't walk by and let that happen to someone else. She couldn't stand aside, knowing that Lucien's sister was suffering just as she had. If she had the opportunity to help poor Marinette, then she also had an obligation to do so.

"Very well," Cinderella said. "I don't know exactly how I'll manage it yet, but I will, somehow. I'll talk to Eugene and to His Majesty and anyone else and I will arrange it. I promise."

Lucien smiled. "Then I will tell Marinette to rejoice, for you have given your word. Thank you, Cinderella, you will make her so happy. I have no doubt that the two of you will become great friends."

"I hope so too," Cinderella said. "And it should be easy, if she is as sweet as you say she is."

"Oh, I couldn't begin to do justice to her good nature," Lucien said with a laugh. "Thank you, again; fate smiled upon my family when it arranged our chance encounter."

Cinderella chuckled. "There's no need to be quite so dramatic, I'm sure. It really isn't much. You've asked me to let your sister serve me, where she'll have to sit and listen to me talk about whatever I want to regardless of whether it interests her or not. She might be bored."

Lucien shook his head. "No one could dislike you, it is impossible."

Cinderella made a sound that was half laugh, half snort. "Not true, but kindly said."

Lucien did not reply. He simply stared at Cinderella for a long while.

"Was there anything else?" Cinderella asked gently, not because she wanted him to go but because having him stand there in sudden silence, staring at her without words was a little disconcerting.

"Cinderella-" Lucien began, but he was interrupted by a cough from Constance, who had returned with a fine porcelain vase decorated with blue feathers, trimmed with gold, painted all around it.

"Will this do, ma'am?"

"Yes, thank you Constance, that's very pretty," Cinderella said. "Would you put it on the side of the dressing table please?" There ought to be room there, and it wouldn't get in the way of the mirror.

"Of course, ma'am," Constance said. She curtsied, before she walked around Lucien and Cinderella both to place the vase down. She turned, and stared at Lucien Gerard just as he had been staring at Cinderella just a moment ago.

"I should go," Lucien said nervously. "Go and break the good news to Marinette." He took Cinderella's hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. "Enchanted to see you again, Cinderella."

"Goodbye Lucien," Cinderella said. "You'll be at the wedding, won't you?"

Lucien laughed. "Alas, I fear my invitation has gotten lost."

"Oh, you must come," Cinderella cried. "I'll make sure there is a place for you, say that you will."

Lucien bowed his head. "How can I refuse? Until then, Cinderella."

"Yes, until then," Cinderella replied. "Remember that you're always welcome."

Lucien smiled, and waved at her as he walked down the stairs.

Constance watched him go before she turned her attention to Cinderella. "Will there be anything else, ma'am?"

Cinderella put Lucien's roses in the porcelain vase. "I'm ready to get dressed now, Constance, so would you start making the arrangements and tell Duchamp?"

Constance curtsied. "Of course, ma'am."

Cinderella bathed and, with the help of Marie-Elise, put on a plain blue dress with puff sleeves.

It was as she was fastening Cinderella's dress up the back that Marie Elise said, "Those are very nice flowers, ma'am. I don't think they were there yesterday."

"No, I just go them this morning," Cinderella said. "They were a gift from Lucien."

Marie Elise finished fastening up the dress. "Lucien Gerard, ma'am."

"Yes," Cinderella replied. "They're lovely, aren't they?" She sat down in front of the dressing table and took a sniff of the gorgeous aroma as she fastened her diamond bracelet around her wrist. It was rather ostentatious to wear it around the palace like this, but she couldn't help herself, it was just so beautiful, the way the diamonds sparkled like she was wearing stars upon her arm; it was the kind of beauty that she had often dreamed of possessing without any hope that such dreams might actually come true. And it was a gift, a gift from her fiancé, her prince, the man who would become her husband. A gift from the man she loved, and who loved her in return. The man who had saved her life. It was all that Cinderella could do to take it off before going to bed.

Marie Elise's expression became a little pinched. "Lucien Gerard was here, ma'am, in this room?"

"Yes, he came to see me, to ask me to help his sister."

"I see," Marie Elise murmured. "If I may, ma'am, I should throw those out for you, discreetly."

"Throw them out?" Cinderella said. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Marie Elise was silent for a moment. "May I speak out of turn, ma'am?"

"I suppose so, yes," Cinderella replied. "What's the matter?"

"You don't seem to realise what it means to be in your position, ma'am," Marie Elise said. "You should not be receiving gifts from other men, to say nothing of receiving them in your bed-chamber, and in your nightgown too. It looks very ill, improper too."

"Lucien is just a friend," Cinderella said. "He didn't know that I wasn't dressed, he didn't realise how early it was. He just wanted to give me these flowers because he was concerned about me after the accident yesterday."

"Honourable gentlemen do not call upon ladies in their bedrooms at five to eight in the morning, ma'am, and virtuous ladies do not receive them there dressed in their bed-clothes," Marie Elise said bluntly. "And to be frank, ma'am, Lucien Gerard does not have a reputation as an honourable gentleman to begin with."

"Lucien has been very kind to me, Duchamp, I won't have him insulted," Cinderella said firmly. "And I won't be accused of carrying on an affair two days before my wedding either."

Marie Elise sighed. "I'm not accusing you of anything, ma'am, though many others will be quick to do so if you keep on behaving like this."

"I'm not behaving like anything," Cinderella cried. "Lucien came to see me, gave me some flowers, then we talked and then he left. That is all there is to it."

Marie Elise's expression softened. "I don't doubt that there is ma'am, but…I know that you were not raised to good society, I know that you weren't taught how a lady is expected to behave…but you are engaged to the prince of this land, and soon you will marry him and become a princess. People will watch you carefully and you cannot afford to court scandal, especially considering your background."

"My background?"

"Not everyone will be happy that a servant girl is to wed our prince, ma'am," Marie Elise pointed out. "Some will be eager to cast doubt upon your reputation. You like white dresses, ma'am, and they suit you well…but even slightest hint of dirt on a white dress shows up very clearly when people look for it."

Cinderella thought for a moment, about the condescension and veiled hostility of the noble ladies she had met; only Serena and Grace had actually been nice to her. "I see what you mean. I'm sorry, Duchamp, I shouldn't have snapped at you. I won't let it happen again, but…I can't throw them away, that would be too cruel of me."

Marie Elise nodded. "I see, ma'am. Did anyone see Gerard here?"

"Constance did, when I asked her to fetch me a vase."

"I'll talk to her, ma'am, and see that she doesn't talk to anyone else," Marie Elise said. "And if you could only accept gifts from His Highness in future that would probably be for the best. Now, how do you want your hair this morning?"

* * *

Etienne Gerard sat in the chair in the dining room with one leg folded on his knee, and fingered a cigar in his hand.

It was not his habit to smoke. Certainly he did not make a habit of smoking at five minutes to eight in the morning, when his stomach was still growling and he had yet to break his fast. But he occasionally felt the need of something to occupy his fingers when he was nervous, and so he fiddled with the long black cigar, twirling it up and down, making it dance his fingertips as he kept his eyes down upon the cigar and not up to look at Eugene, seat on the other side of the table, drumming his fingers on the table cloth.

"I wonder what's keeping Cinderella," Eugene murmured. "And father, come to that."

Etienne had an idea that his brother Lucien was likely to be keeping Cinderella, but he said nothing about that. This would be awkward enough without revealing that he was but part of a joint attack mounted by the Gerard brothers. Admitting that would be too much.

Eugene grunted. "What's the matter with you?"

Etienne looked up as his cigar dropped to the ground. "What do you mean?"

"You only play with cigars when you're nervous," Eugene said.

Etienne snorted. "You know me too well."

"Of course. Aren't you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Don't you have enough of your own troubles with involving yourself in mine?"

"Troubles? Me?" Eugene said, his tone as bewildered-seeming as his face. "Everything is fine again between Cinderella and I, and in two days I marry the girl of my dreams, what do I have to be troubled about?"

"Everything's fine? Just like that?"

Eugene grinned. "It turns out saving a girl's life does wonders for her opinion of you."

"I'll try and remember that," Etienne said dryly. "So you really want to know?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

Etienne fell silent for a moment, while he searched for the right way to put it. "We've been friends for a long time."

"We have."

"And I don't make a habit of asking you for favours on the grounds of our friendship."

"Meaning you're about to do so now," Eugene said.

Etienne sighed. "Mother's been badgering me about Marinette. She wants to get her appointed to Cinderella's household."

Eugene leaned forward. "A lady in waiting? Is that it?"

Etienne nodded. "Mother…she thinks its Marinette's way into society." He thought it was probably best not to mention that she also thought it was the family's way back into money.

"And what does Marinette think?" Eugene asked.

"Marinette thinks that this would make mother very happy," Etienne said. "And…it isn't right that she is stuck in the house taking care of mother all the time."

"Who will, you?" Eugene asked.

"My mother isn't an invalid yet, and she's the one who wants to get Marinette out of the house," Etienne replied. "I daresay she can manage." He hesitated. "Can you help?"

"I…" now it was Eugene's turn to hesitate. "You know that if Marinette is appointed to Cinderella's household there will be some who don't like it. The Gerard family isn't exactly top draw any more."

"I know that well enough," Etienne snapped. He held up one hand. "I'm sorry, not your fault I know, almost the opposite. But let me be frank for a second: the same people who won't like a Gerard girl snatching one of the lady-in-waiting positions out from under them probably aren't very happy about Mademoiselle Cinderella snatching the princess position out from under them either, but I don't see you calling off your engagement to spare their delicate feelings."

Eugene burst out in laughter. "Yes, you're absolutely right, of course. More right than either of us really realises, probably. Very well, since the snobs will be unhappy no matter what, to the devil with the lot of them. I'll speak to father and see what can be done."

Etienne bowed his head as he let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you. You have no idea what this will mean to mother. One thing she won't be able to blame me for. You're a good friend."

"Just don't ask me for another favour too quickly, eh?" Eugene replied with mock sternness.

Etienne grinned. "I'll try and restrain my ambitions."

* * *

"Constance?"

Constance turned as Marie Elise Duchamp approached her in one of the more secluded corridors of the palace.

Constance curtsied, as one did to the Lady's Maid, who was something altogether more rarefied than a mere chambermaid like her. It was as if some touch of her lady's above stairs-ness had rubbed off on her. "Yes Mademoiselle Duchamp?"

"I understand that your saw our lady with Monsieur Gerard this morning," Duchamp said. "Have you told anyone about that?"

"No, Mademoiselle Duchamp."

"Good girl, make sure it stays that way," Duchamp said.

"Yes, Mademoiselle Duchamp. Um, what was our ma'am doing with a cad like that in her bed chamber in the early morning."

"Being naïve," Duchamp replied. "Ma'am hasn't realised he's a rake and a snake yet and she hadn't thought about how it looked. She still has a lot to learn about the way things work around here, and so that means that we must work a little bit harder to keep her safe, until she works out how the game is played."

* * *

"Well?" Madame Gerard demanded imperiously as she sat, enthroned in a vast and well-stuffed armchair with a breakfast tray resting on her knees, staring at Etienne from over her pince-nez. "What did His Highness have to say about our Marinette?"

Etienne sighed. "He was open to the idea, maman, he said he would talk to His Majesty."

Lucien snorted. "Open to the idea? A great friend indeed."

Etienne's mouth twisted with distaste. "Is that so? And what did you accomplish sneaking into the palace to talk to Mademoiselle Cinderella?"

"I have secured for Marinette a position," Lucien declared with the air of a magician producing a turtledove from out of his cloak. "Cinderella has given me her word that Marinette shall have a position."

"Oh! Oh my boy, oh my handsome, clever boy," Madame Gerard cried, her voice cracking and trembling with gratitude. "Why, not since your dear father's day has a Gerard been invited up to the palace-"

"I go there all the time, Maman," Etienne reminded her.

His mother did not deign to acknowledge that particular truth. "Oh, this is the turning of the tide! This is the rising of our fortunes, I can feel it, why – oh, we must order Marinette a new dress at once, or she will have nothing to wear when the time comes to take up her duties."

"I still have one posh frock, maman," Marinette murmured softly.

"Oh, you can't wear that, dear, it's hideous. Etienne, you must take your sister and buy some new gowns for her."

"Mother, I'm not sure that-"

"Hang the expense, boy! I will not have my only daughter, upon her first visit to the palace, presented before the princess of Armorique dressed like a beggar's brat!" Madame Gerard declared. "I will not have it! This is about Marinette, have you no concern for your sister's good?"

 _If this was really about the good of Marinette you would have let her work in the bookshop like she wanted to,_ Etienne thought, though he did not say so aloud.

"Marinette and I have some matters to go over, but as soon as we're finished you must take her out," Madame Gerard said. "And try to buy something that doesn't look like a sack on her."

"I'll try, maman," Etienne murmured. _The same way I'll try and find a way for us to pay for all of this._

"Marinette, come with me," Madame Gerard said, setting aside her yet uneaten breakfast. "Before you go shopping I must teach you how to stand, how to walk, how to sit, how to speak and most importantly how not to speak so that you make the best of all possible impressions when you meet the princess. Now, come with me, child." She took the unprotesting Marinette by the shoulders and led her away into the next room.

Etienne folded his arms and stared at Lucien. "Congratulations. You must be very proud of the way that you've taken advantage of a naive young lady who honestly believes you to be a friend to her."

"I am a friend to her!" Lucien protested.

"Will you still be her friend when she tell you 'no'?" Etienne asked.

"I…" Lucien murmured. "I…"

Etienne shook his head. "You didn't have it in you to be a friend to anybody but yourself."

"That isn't true," Lucien snapped. "And it hurts."

Etienne snorted. "How much of that forty pounds you weaselled out of mother do you still have?"

Lucien shrugged. "Some. Why?"

"I might need some of it back to afford a new dress for Marinette."

Lucien looked half amused and half affronted. "You want me to lend you money?"

Etienne's gaze was withering. "I want you to give me my money back."

"But it's my money now," Lucien protested. "And I need to buy a new suit, remember?"

Etienne stared at his little brother, long and hard. "It is wrong of me, but I very much hope that Cinderella appreciates what a good, true friend you are to her when you are taking her money the way you take mine."

Lucien's lip curled into something that was half a sneer, half a a smug and rather ugly smile.

"And where has your loyalty gotten you?" he asked. "You think you're so much better than I am because you don't ask his highness for help, but look at yourself! A pauper colonel and a man with no honour."

Etienne took a deep breath in and out as he fought to control his mounting annoyance. "You know nothing about my honour, you know nothing about my friendship with His Highness." _I do things for him that you would never do for Cinderella._ "Don't talk of things of which you are ignorant."

"I know everything I need to know," Lucien replied. "I know about your bas-"

Lucien's words were lost in a strangled squawk as Etienne grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and slammed him into the nearest wall.

"What do you know?" Etienne demanded.

"Hardly anything," Lucien gasped. "You have a child, hidden in the city, and it is such an open secret that your reputation is destroyed and none will marry you."

"And the child?" Etienne snarled. "What do you know about the child?"

"Nothing, save that there is one," Lucien choked.

Etienne released him. "You will not speak of this; not to mother, not to Marinette, not to anyone. Understand?"

Lucien nodded, with terror still evident in his eyes.

"Good," Etienne snapped. "This is not gossip for you to spread about to those who do not know it. This is life and death."

"Who's death?" Lucien asked as he rubbed his neck.

"Yours, if you don't keep quiet about this," Etienne snapped.

* * *

Mark Antony prowled his kingdom with back straight and tail up, his dark hair standing on end as he strutted through the halls like the king that he was.

He was not just a cat, he was a lion. All cats were lions, he had learned that in the lap of his not-mother-milk-giver when he was a kitten and she had spoken to him in the language of men. All cats were lions at heart, but most had forgotten it because the humans had made them soft and weak. He was all lion, every black and battle-scarred inch of him. He was a lion, and this was the jungle that he was king of.

The humans who lived here were just renting space from him, and paid him in regular dinners.

Still, even the peasants were entitled to a certain amount of noblesse oblige from their king, some small consideration like protection from their enemies. But now the enemies were inside the walls and if things went on as they were they might begin to ask themselves just how much their king was worth.

Mice. He could smell them. Wherever he went their stench was always on the tip of his nose, aggravating him, infuriating him. Their presence was an affront to his pride as a lion, as a warrior, as a king. Every day that they defied him made him look more weak, more powerless.

It was insulting. It was demeaning. What it was not, at this point, was worrying. They were clever, to be sure, but he had encountered clever mice before. Many years he had ruled this place, and these were not the first mice or rats to challenge him. They were dead or fled now, every one, while he remained. He would see them go the same way.

None of those earlier foes had enjoyed any humans helping them out, of course, but he wasn't about to let that stop him.

Speaking of which, he could smell her now. The human-ruler-only-kit-mate. The one who harboured mice. He could smell their stench clinging to her like the scents that human females wore put their males in heat. She was coming towards him, stinking of mice and making some irritating human warble.

Antony's claws emerged as she hissed at her, his black fur sticking up even higher than usual.

"Oh, you again. Go away," cried human-ruler-only-kit-mate. "Shoo!"

She was afraid of him. She smelled of fear. Perhaps it was his sharp claws or his big teeth or the scars that criss-crossed his face. Whatever the reason it was good. Peasants should fear their king. Antony hissed some more, and opened his mouth to yowl at her.

"Shoo!" she repeated. "Go away!"

Antony hissed one last time, and stretched out, digging his claws into the carpet. Only then did he, with ostentatious dignity, turn away, maintaining such a posture as to let human-ruler-only-kit-mate know that he had always intended to walk away and it certainly wasn't anything to do with the fact that she wanted to get rid of him.

He'd get her. Not her personally, but he'd get her little friends and she'd realise who was boss then, wouldn't she?

After all he'd nearly gotten one before. The red one. Just missed him. Get him next time, with Cleo and Bungle to help if he must.

"You shouldn't be so…openly antagonistic towards that one," said Cleopatra as she slunk out of the shadows, tiptoeing seductively towards him with her tail waving hypnotically above her and her blue eyes gleaming. She was intoxicating, lithe and lovely with perfect ginger fur and bright blue eyes and a perfect face. The way she swayed her hips as she walked, the way her body moved…she could put Mark Antony in heat just by looking at her.

But all her charms were not quite enough to calm the irritation stirred in him by her words of caution. "I am a king, what care I for the goodwill of any man."

"You are a king," Cleopatra whispered, slinking in front of him, letting her tail brush his face. "But some of these humans, they are to a king as gods, and they will cast you out if you offend them."

Antony purred at the feel of her tail caressing his cheek, closing his one good eye as she savoured the tactile sensation. "What would you have me do?"

"Be small, walk softly; keep out of sight of this human-ruler-only-kit-mate until she has forgotten that you exist. Put aside your warlike ardour, be blind and indolent and go not hunting forth for vermin."

"Subjects and enemies alike will think me weak!"

"And your seeming weakness will make your enemies bold," Cleopatra whispered, an anticipatory gleam shining in her eyes. "And when their boldness makes them overreach we will destroy them all."

Antony's eye snapped open. "Draw them out, far from the holes they scurry too?" That had promise. Always these mice stayed close to the walls, close to their holes. They never went too far, and so he was never fast enough to catch them. But if they could be drawn away, into the open…they would never match his speed. "You are as cunning as you are beautiful."

"I am whatever my lord needs me to be," Cleopatra murmured, with her eyes aglow. "Whether he needs me to be strong, to be cunning, to be…alluring."

* * *

"Etienne, look at this," Marinette murmured, bending over to peer at a collection of delicate, spindly glass animals sitting in the window of a glass-blower's shop, the light glimmering off their miniature bodies. "Aren't they pretty?"

Etienne came to stand by his sister's side, staring down at the little glass creatures on the other side of the window: a green hippopotamus, a violet elephant, an orange giraffe, monkeys in red and blue, horses in yellow and brown, some that were pure glass, uncoloured and transparent, some that looked more like crystal; a whole menagerie laid out for the discerning eye. He had the idea that Marinette had most of them, or ones that looked like that, already, but he couldn't be sure. He had never paid that much attention to Marinette's collection. "Is there one in particular that you like?"

"The unicorn," Marinette said, pointing to a cut-glass crystal unicorn standing proud towards the back of the collection. "It's pretty, don't you think? It reminds me of you."

Etienne frowned. "How so?"

"Look at the way he holds himself, the angle of his head, the way that's apart from all the other animals, proud and aloof."

"You think I'm proud and aloof?"

"You don't?" Marinette asked, turning towards him with a mischievous smile on her face. "It's alright to admit it, I don't mind that you think you're better than the rest of us."

"I don't-" Etienne began, and then stopped before he raced headlong into a barefaced lie. The truth was…the truth was…the truth was that he certainly thought he was better than Lucien because he knew for certain that he was the better man every time Lucien came begging for more money. Did he think he was better than Marinette and Maman? Probably, he was the one who supported them after all; he knew rationally that that didn't make him better; it didn't even make him a good man just because he hadn't thrown them on their own resources, but…his spirit wasn't always rational. "I'm sorry."

"I said it was alright," Marinette murmured. "We do rely on you, all of us, and we don't give you enough credit for that sometimes."

"That doesn't make it right for me to hold myself above the rest of you," Etienne said. "I'll try and do better. Would you like the unicorn?"

Marinette nodded. "Yes, but I know that we can't afford it."

"I might-"

"Let's worry about new dresses, first, and then we can look for other things to waste money on, shall we?" Marinette said, with laughter in her voice but…also a touch of sadness too. When their father had been alive – _God, I'm getting as sentimental as mother, now_ – he had often had to go away, visiting the family estates and holdings scattered across the country, the mines and the farmlands and the tenant villages; and whenever he would come back he would bring gifts for all his children. It was he who had started Marinette's glass menagerie, bringing her back a new animal for the collection every time he returned home. Etienne liked to think that his path into the army had been set the day his father had given him a set of tin soldiers, all excellently painted, when he came home from one of his excursions.

Perhaps if he had not been so determined to spoil all of his children then there might have been a little more money left by the time he died. Or he would have squandered it some other way, the way that he had lost all the rest of the family fortunes.

"We should head on," Etienne murmured. "Will you take my arm?"

"One more moment," Marinette murmured, and she stared wistfully at the crystal glass unicorn, before she turned away and put her hand upon the crook of Etienne's arm.

Together they walked down the street, as the capital woke up to a warm spring morning. It was by now around half-past nine, and all the shops were open, and the streets were beginning to fill up with people, women mainly, the bourgeois wives in furs and extravagant hats who bustled up and down, passing into the out of the high class establishments that occupied this part of town: the dressmakers, the jewellers, the makers of expensive children's toys; the masters of all of their respective crafts. Most of the shop windows had some sort of message, often painted in gold filigree, emphasising which powerful and well known person patronised the establishment. One jeweller was proud to serve the Duchess de Montcalm, one toymaker produced rocking horses for the Marquis of Morlaix's children, one dressmaker seemed to be patronised by half the nobility of the realm, and there were so many names on the window it was impossible to get a good look at the dresses.

Etienne led Marinette past that particular establishment, and to the very far end of the street, where a small shop huddled on the corner like the friendless man at the edge of the bar desperately trying to catch the bartender's eye. The door was green, and the paintwork new though the building itself was old and just a little pokey. Above the shop front, in bright blue letters against a white background, the name _The Florentine Boutique_ blazed out into the world, if the world paid the words or the place any heed whatsoever. In the large window, not hidden, but placed discreetly so as not to obstruct the view inside, some white paint declared _By Royal Appointment, Dressmaker to Her Highness Princess Cinderella._

"People do realise that she's not actually a princess yet, don't they?" Marinette asked.

"Probably," Etienne said. "But if I were her I wouldn't want to have to redo my sign after only a few days just because she got married."

"Did you bring me here just because this is where Mademoiselle Cinderella gets her dresses?"

"I thought it might give you something to talk about, if all other topics of conversation exhausted themselves," Etienne said. He looked in through the window, and could not see anyone home. He did see a wedding dress sitting on a pedestal in the centre of the room, seeming to push everything else to one side. It was white, and it had long sleeves, but beyond that Etienne's knowledge of fashion was insufficient to tell him more. He couldn't even have said whether it was a good wedding dress or not, although he had little doubt that Cinderella – he had a similar lack of doubts that this was her wedding dress - would manage to wear it well. She seemed the sort who could do that.

There were some other dresses in the shop, and a couple prominently displayed in the window. They were…nice enough, he supposed. Etienne had never been one to pay attention to that sort of thing, although he knew the right compliments to pay when a woman indicated that she wanted them. For him, the girl's own appearance had always been more important than how much silk she could wrap around herself, and her inner nature had always been more important than that. It was one of the ways in which he was a little more discerning than Eugene.

 _Perhaps I am a little proud and aloof, after all._

"The other reason we're here, I must admit," he murmured. "Is that I have some hope that this place will be cheaper than its competitors."

Marinette looked up at the sign above the door. "Do you know who owns it?"

"Some Italian woman, I think."

"A Florentine, I assume," Marinette murmured. She looked down at her frayed and patched dress. "Italians are supposed to be very sophisticated. She'll probably find me very drab."

"She's a tradeswoman, even if she does think that she won't ever say so," Etienne assured her. "Shall we go in?"

Marinette nodded, but only slightly, and she did not move.

Etienne frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Marinette looked down. "I just…whoever would have thought that it would fall to me to raise the family fortunes?"

"Whoever would have thought that the family fortunes would need raising?" Etienne replied.

Marinette took a deep breath. "I never thought that things would come to this."

Etienne put one hand upon her shoulder. "If you do not want to do this, then I will tell maman-"

"No," Marinette said. "I said that I'd do this and I will. I said I wanted to help the family and I do." She raised her head, brushing some of her light brown hair out of the way. "I'm ready now, take me in."

Etienne swept his shako off his head and tucked it underneath his arm as he pushed open the door, listening to the little bell tinkling as he held the door open for Marinette. His little sister walked in diffidently, lifting her skirt up as little as possible so that the poor state of her shoes would not be too visible. That was…it made him feel ashamed of his gaudy hussar uniform, that she was forced to endure such plainness by comparison, but what could he do? The uniform was what it was, and it wasn't as though he could serve in the hussars without one.

As Etienne followed her in, the door closing behind him, there was still no sign of anyone about. There was, however, a doorway closed off by a red curtain separating from the shop front from the back room. "Hello?" he called. "Is anyone here?"

"Coming, monsieur," a woman's voice with an Italian accent replied. The curtain twitched open as a Grecian nymph walked through the doorway. "I do apologise, I hope that you weren't…oh my."

She was staring at him, her mouth half open, her eyes wide. Etienne hardly noticed because he was too busy staring himself. This woman…this was Cinderella's dressmaker? For God's sake, what was Eugene thinking marrying that plain and pug-nosed girl when this rich treasure was in the world, just a few streets away, waiting to be discovered? Her eyes were more blue than ever Cinderella's were, her bronzed complexion ten-fold times more beguiling, if not a hundred. The ringlets of her hair, the sharpness of her nose, the shape and colour of her lips, her high Roman cheekbones, every single inch of her his eyes beheld. She was the kind of maid the ancients would have immortalised in marble statuary, the kind of muse who inspired the likes of Botticelli and Caravaggio to greatness before she drove them mad from gazing on her beauty. This was the kind of maid who should have been wearing gorgeous gowns, not making them for the adornment of lesser bodies.

This was not the kind of maid who should have been the princess' dressmaker; indeed, she should have been the princess. For a moment, for one absurd, insane moment, Etienne wanted nothing more than to sweep her away from this drab shop and install her in state in some grand mansion, to buy her a new dress for every ball and gala, to shower her with so many gifts and baubles that she would not know what to do with them, to squander every last penny of the fortune that he did not have giving her the life that she deserved ensuring, no matter the troubles that fell upon his head, that she was happy.

In that moment, as he stared at her like a slack-jawed loon and only the fact that she was staring right back at him saved him from terrible embarrassment, Etienne Gerard understood two things that he had not hitherto comprehended: first, he understood why Eugene could have behaved the way he had done at the grand ball, to have suddenly fallen thus into a trance and walked, in defiance of all protocol, away from the maidens being presented to him straight into the arms of the mysterious stranger in the shadows at the back of the room, who was not even looking in his direction. Second, he understood how his father could never say anything to his wife as the family finances deteriorated around him, and how he could continue to spoil her rotten until his last breath.

Such, it seemed, was love.

"Etienne?" Marinette whispered. "Psst! Etienne!" Her gaze flickered between the two frozen figures, before – with as much ladylike decorum as the operation would allow – she jabbed her elbow into her brother's ribs. "Etienne!"

Etienne recoiled slightly, and as his gaze was broken so did a little sanity returned, and with it a great deal of embarrassment. He felt his face begin to redden as he cleared his throat. "Ahem. Forgive me, mademoiselle, you must think me quite the village idiot to behave so. I apologise without reserve."

The young lady looked away as well, and if she was not blushing she was playing with her hair in what seemed like a nervous gesture. "It's…it's quite alright, monsieur, really. I feel as though I should be apologising, this is not the way that a patron expects to be treated."

"No, no, mademoiselle, I assure you, the fault was mine," Etienne said hastily. He touched his forelock, and half bowed from the waist. "Etienne Gerard, at your service. Allow me to present my sister, Marinette."

Marinette nodded. "How do you do?"

"Very well, thank you," the dressmaker said. She curtsied to them both. "I am Lucrecia Adessi, and welcome to my Florentine Boutique."

Etienne smiled, and called upon his Italian lessons. " _Streghe, signorita. Il tuo negozzio e quasi bella come sei._ "

Lucrecia chuckled. "Your accent is quite terrible, monsieur, but your words are very much appreciated. Now, what I can do for you?"

Etienne bowed his head. "We are in need of your services, signorita. Specifically my sister requires some new dresses."

Lucrecia smiled. God, she had a lovely smile. "I did not think you were here for a hobby horse, monsieur, the toy shop is next door."

Etienne laughed more than the jest warranted.

Lucrecia continued, "When do you need this new gown?"

"For when the new princess returns from her honeymoon," Marinette murmured. "I'm to be one of her ladies in waiting."

"Oh, congratulations, mademoiselle. Hmm, I have many royal commissions yet to complete at that time, but the honeymoon, itself…yes, that will be quite possible. Now, what sort of gowns would mademoiselle prefer?"

Marinette hesitated. "I…I've really no idea. I know that I don't have much of a figure to be flattered-"

"Nonsense mademoisele, you should not undersell yourself. Now, come." Lucrecia hustled Marinette into the back room, leading Etienne to dawdle about in the front room for about half an hour before the two of the re-emerged.

"There, I think I have everything I need," Lucrecia said. "Now, if you will please leave your address so that the finished items can be delivered-"

"Number 18 Rue de Clove," Etienne said. He was silent for a moment. "On the question of the cost-"

"Ah, yes, that," Lucrecia said, playing with her fingers. "Monsieur, I am new to this city and, being new, still struggle to find my way around. It is much to ask I know, but...if you would consent to be my guide about the city and show me a few of its particular delights...there will be no other charge."

A slow smile spread across Etienne's face. "I would be both honoured and delighted, signorita Lucrecia. Are you in any way engaged tonight?"

"I am glad to say, sir, that I am not."

"Then I will call at seven, if that is agreeable to you."

"I await it eagerly," Lucrecia murmured.

"As do I," Etienne replied softly. I will see you then. Until seven, signorita, farewell." He bowed to her, full and florid and courtly, and he led Marinette out of the shop his steps felt as light as the air.

* * *

 _Author's Note: While I was doing some research for an original novel I became quite interest in the meanings behind various different flowers, and so Lucien's bouquet is fraught with meaning, even if Cinderella doesn't realise it:_

 _The number, thirteen, indicates a secret admirer (Lucien is not being particularly subtle with this)_

 _The dark red rose indicates an unconscious beauty_

 _The pink roses symbolise admiration, gentleness, joy, charm and sweetness_

 _The white roses symbolise purity, innocence and charm_

 _The two lavender roses symbolise love at first sight (one rose for each eyes)_

 _The salmon rose indicates desire_

 _The novel rose, yellow with red edges, indicates falling in love (this one may not be traditional, as it comes off a rose-grower's website, but I like the idea)._

 _Since Gus' full name is actually Octavian, I thought that it was fitting to name the two palace cats Antony and Cleopatra, the two great enemies of Augustus (the historic Antony had his delusions of grandeur, too). The cat thing is a little unexpected for this story, I know, but I thought it might be fun to have snippets of a cat and mouse subplot here and there._


	8. Let No Man Put Asunder

Let No Man Put Asunder

The fact that the month was June did not stop a chill wind from gusting through the streets of the capital as Jean Taurillon slid down the wall, a few feet from the entrance to the alleyway that served him as his home. He held a large loaf of crusty tiger bread stiffly in one arm, and as he sat down in the none-too-clean alley he made a show of wiping a few specks of dust off his trousers with his free hand. Not because it would actually do any good, it was just a reminder of the standards that he would have maintained if he'd had the chance.

"Hungry, Angeligue?" Jean asked, offering the loaf wrapped in old newspaper to his companion.

"You bet," Angelique replied, eagerly taking the large loaf off his hands, a drop of saliva forming in the corner of her mouth as unwrapped the paper and tore a large chunk of bread off. "Do you want some cheese?"

Jean's eyebrows rose. "We've got cheese?"

"Just a bit of brie, not much but it's better than nothing," Angelique said. "Do you want some?"

"Don't mind if I do," Jean said, as he took back both the loaf and a little bit of the soft yellow cheese. He felt the hard white rind under his fingertips for a moment before he popped the cheese into his mouth along with a chunk of the soft, fluffy bread.

The two ate in silence for a moment, filling the night with nothing more than the sounds of their mouths working as they ate. Jean wriggled a little, trying to find a comfortable way to lean against the hard and slightly rugged stone wall of the house behind him. Nothing really made it any better than it was, and so eventually he gave up on trying and just concentrated on eating. He looked at Angelique for a few moments, until he decided that with neither of them saying anything it might look like staring, and so he looked up at the moon instead. It was full tonight, big and beautiful, a silver orb lighting up the darkness all around it, a ray of hope in a blanket of despair. So beautiful.

He swallowed. "A big day tomorrow."

Angelique was silent for a moment. "Really? What's so big about it?"

Jean looked down at her, a frown upon his rounded face. "You can't have forgotten?"

Angelique was looking puzzled herself, now; a look of confusion sat upon her thin, pale features. "It's not your birthday for until next February-"

"It's the royal wedding!" Jean exclaimed. "Tomorrow Mademoiselle Cinderella will wed the prince and become our princess. How could you forget such a thing?"

"Very easily, actually," Angelique muttered, brushing some of her pale blonde hair over her ear. "My secret is, and this is amazing so pay attention: I don't care."

"Angelique," Jean murmured reproachfully.

"What?" Angelique replied. "Why should I care about royal weddings, or even about the name of this new princess who will soon take up her crown? What is she to the likes of us?"

"Without her we wouldn't be able to afford this bread," Jean said. "Thanks to the Cinderella Subsidy prices have gone down all over the city."

"The Cinderella Subsidy," Angelique sniffed. "I bet you can't even spell subsidy."

"I don't need to spell it to know that bread is cheaper now than it was," Jean replied. "This is a great moment, Angelique, I can feel it; everything is going to change."

Angelique rolled her blue eyes, eyes that seemed brighter for being set in so pale a face. "Oh, please. By this time tomorrow the rich will still be rich, the poor will still be poor and folk like you and me will still be ground by people like Princess Cinderella. Nothing is ever going to change, certainly not because of a marriage." Angelique coughed.

Jean shook his head. "For an angel you are remarkably lacking in soul and faith."

Angelique coughed again. "Don't call me that."

"What?"

"Angel, you know I don't like it."

Jean frowned. "I'm sorry, I thought that-"

"I'm no angel, we both know that," Angelique said sharply. "But I'm content with that, I don't need to be perfect, sweet and innocent, and I don't want to be thought of that way. Unlike the new princess, who seems to want us to see a halo above her head even when it isn't there."

"What makes you say that?"

"If she really cared about the poor she wouldn't prance around in those gowns," Angelique declared. "Or wear that enormous rock upon her finger; how many families could be fed if she sold her finery and gave the money to the deserving? But does she do that, of course not."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to look nice," Jean said softly. "I think you'd look quite nice in some of a gown like that."

A red blush spread across Angelique's face. "Don't be stupid. Idiot. My point is that she wants to be admired for how compassionate she is, but she doesn't want to make real sacrifices."

"Because they aren't sacrifices for her, their achievements," Jean said. "If I managed to climb my way up from here to live in the palace then I'd wear silk shirts every day, and crimson coats with gold brocade on them. I would cover my hands in wolfskin gloves and stomp around in boots of the finest leather." He smiled, for he could see himself now, dressed in some fancy uniform with glittering medals on his chest, sitting in his state, gathering his officers about him…waltzing across a pristine marble dance floor with some fair lady in a shimmering gown who looked rather a lot like Angelique. "And I would give you diamonds to string around your neck, and pearls to wear in you hair and I wouldn't feel ashamed of any of it, if I'd earned all that, and to the devil with the expense."

"The people's champion," Angelique muttered. "Personally, a homespun dress and a roof overhead would be good enough for me."

"Is that all?" Jean smiled. "A fancy dress and jewels would suit you better."

Angelique snorted. "A crimson coat with gold brocade wouldn't suit you at all. You're too stocky by half. Anyway, it doesn't matter, such things are out of the reach of the likes of us. And always will be, no matter who marries the prince tomorrow."

Jean shook his head. "The new princess is one of us-"

"She was never one of us," Angelique said. "A servant is not like us. And even if she were, she will become one of them soon enough."

"Then what of the cheapening price of bread?"

Angelique shrugged. "Maybe she's got good intentions, I don't know. But…nothing will really change, you'll see. Nothing ever does."

"I think you're wrong," Jean said quietly. "This time, you're wrong."

"Fine, fine, get your hopes us, but don't cry to me when you get disappointed," Angelique muttered.

"Will you still come to the church with me tomorrow, to see her?"

Angelique was silent for a moment. "Yes, I'll come, though I don't know why you care so much."

"Because I believe."

"Why?"

"Because she didn't have to do anything at all about the price of bread," Jean replied. "But she did, and that gives me hope."

"We'll see," Angelique murmured. "We will see."

"Yes," Jean said. "I believe we will."

* * *

That same night, in a modest chateau in one of the better parts of the capital, Princess Frederica Eugenie de la Fontaine of Normandie sat at her writing desk, a quill pen trembling between her fingers.

She looked up from the half-written letter in front of her and looked out of the window. It was black as coal outside, some of the other tall houses round about were getting in the way of the moonlight, and the light from the single candle in her study meant that she saw more of her own reflection than she did of the outside world.

What she saw was not unpleasing to the eye: hair black as ebony arranged in ringlets falling across her shoulders, skin so far it was near to ivory, hazel eyes with a hint of gold and a comely body that was emphasised by her clothes. However she had lost out to the servant girl it had not been in a contest of looks.

She heard a sound, and Frederica whirled around to stare at the open door behind her.

"Anton?" she called. "Is that you?" The house she was renting had come with its own staff, but she had dismissed them all and replaced them with her own men from Normandie, whom she could trust. She did not know why any of them would be disturbing her at this late hour, however.

A man appeared in the doorway, burly of build and shaggy of hair, with a wild piratical beard and a gaze that could melt steel at fifty yards.

Frederica scowled. "Auguste. If I'd known you were coming I would have put a line of salt across the door."

Auguste scowled. "I am here at your father's command."

"Ah, so he has you running his errands now," Frederica said. "A little bit of a comedown from being his chief spy. As it happens I was just about to write to my father now."

"You are commanded to return to Caen and answer to your father for your failure," Auguste growled.

Frederica hesitated. She had some inclination of what the answering was likely to involve. She forced a smile. "I have not failed. My work here is not yet done."

"He is marrying another woman tomorrow," Auguste said.

"A setback, I admit," Frederica said. "Not an insurmountable one."

Auguste's scowl deepened. "The King has grown tired of your incompetence, here and elsewhere. Your time spent wandering the world squandering his gold, embarrassing him by your behaviour is ended. You are commanded to return home immediately."

 _I have no home, certainly not in Normandie._ "I'm not finished yet."

"He has chosen another!" Auguste snarled. "He looked at you and he turned away, disgusted, as the world does! You are finished, whether you declare it so or not. You will return to Caen at once, that is the King's command."

Frederica affected a studied insouciance as she leaned back in her chair, hoping that Auguste didn't notice the slight tremble in her fingertips, the beads of sweat that she could feel forming on her brow at the thought of crawling back to Caen a failure, at the thought of being trapped in that dark, forbidding palace, at the thought of kneeling before her father's throne and letting his acidic judgement fall upon her.

 _If the lashing is given solely by the tongue I shall be fortunate indeed._

All this fear and trepidation she tried to hide, and well trained as she was she fancied she succeeded. "So, my father no longer wants Armorique's Caribbean islands? He no longer wants access to the American trade? He no longer wants any of the advantages for which he sent me here?"

"You were sent to catch Armorique's prince and trap him into a marriage of our crowns," Auguste replied. "You failed."

Frederica pursed her lips for a moment. "There is always seduction. Not all men are faithful to their marriage beds." _My father certainly wasn't._

Auguste's face darkened. "You would have it said of Normandie that her princess prostitutes herself-"

"For what was I sent here but to prostitute myself?" Frederica yelled. "Or perhaps I will seduce the princess instead, would that be preferable? She is said to be an ingénue, and the good girls are always hiding some dark appetite locked away, how would that serve."

"That will not be necessary," Auguste said.

Frederica frowned. "Why not?"

"That is none of your concern."

"Maybe not, but I want to know anyway," Frederica declared. She rose to her feet. "Tell me, Auguste, what dirty wickedness does my father have planned for this girl?"

Auguste's smile was as ugly as sin, like some demonic creature sprung from the abyss to wreak havoc on earth. "The dishmaid will have no join of her triumph over Normandie's most beautiful daughter. She will not live to see her wedding night."

"My God," Frederica murmured as she felt an icy hand wrap itself around her stomach. "You mean to murder her?"

"Assassination is a gentler word for what we do."

"Murder is a more honest one," Frederica replied. "And to do it in my name, I did not ask for this!"

"What you asked for is immaterial. The King has commanded."

"Is he really so petty?" Frederica demanded. _What am I saying, of course he is._ "When? How?"

"She will be shot as she leaves the cathedral," Auguste said. "All has been prepared."

Frederica shook her head. "No," she murmured. "Please, Auguste, don't do this."

"Why not?"

"Because I can get real results without bloodshed, I just need more time," Frederica cried.

"You have your orders."

"I am my father's daughter, not his soldier, I don't take orders from him!" Frederica snapped.

Auguste closed in on her more swiftly than Frederica could back away from him, a dark and menacing figure casting his shadow over her like some great spider bearing down upon a fly trapped on its web. "You will do as you are told, you foolish girl. Do you imagine that the Angevin whore will protect you? Do you imagine that your father will suffer any more of your insolence? Do as you are told! Depart from this place, and leave these matters to me."

"What purpose does her death serve?" Frederica whispered.

"It will please your royal father's humour, and that is all that we can hope to do as often as not," Auguste said, turning away from the princess and stalking back towards the doorway.

"It is evil, what you mean to do," Frederica said.

Auguste was still and silent for a moment. "I serve the King, your father. Evil is all that he ever commands of me."

He left, as swiftly and as silently as he had come. Frederica collapsed in a nearby chair, a dry sob wracking her whole body with a convulsion like a snake hit on the head.

With trembling fingers she yanked open one of the draws to her dressing table, and fumbled at the contents until she found what she was looking for: her mother's rosary. She clutched it to her, feeling the tarnished silver icon against her thumb, feeling the beads against her fingers as she closed her eyes and tried to pray. She did not have her mother's faith, she never had possessed it, and she kept the rosary more for the remembrance of her mother than for the attentions of God, but on this night, in that moment, as her mind reverberated with knowledge of a crime that she could not reveal, Frederica tried to pray.

 _Let it fail. Let it fail, let her live, I do beseech you, let her live._

 _And forgive me my silence._

* * *

In the half-light of dawn, the streets began to fill. Soldiers in dress coats, with polished shako badges and bayonets gleaming lined the route of the procession, marshalled by sergeants bearing vicious looking halberds. The roads which the royal carriage would travel to bear the bride and groom to church, and to bear them out of the capital and away on their honeymoon, were cleared of all other traffic, man, cart or horse. Horses snorted and stamped their hooves as cavalry watched the gathering crowds. In the grey light, the common folk of Nantes gathered behind the line of soldiers to watch the carriage go by.

"We certainly have got a good view from here," Angelique declared in a deadpan voice as the two urchins joined the gathering throng, standing in the growing crush of people come to stand outside the cathedral as the prince was wed, to swell the crowd and raise the volume of the cheering as the royal carriage made its stately progress past their ranks. They were like extras in a play, no worse than that, for even a spear-carrier might be allowed to attend upon the main players in the scene, to swell a progress, start an act or two; no, all of these people out here they were not even the audience, denied so much as the sight of the main action, yet still expected to applaud and cheer and cry out in loud delight as if the whole thing had been put on for their benefit.

 _Foolishness. Pure foolishness._

"We'll still be able to see them coming in and out of the cathedral," Jean said. He was dressed in his best clothes, which meant that his blue coat was just a little less shabby than usual – only one frayed cuff instead of two, and the dust and dirt was not present all over – and a tattered top hat set at a jaunty angle on his head. He removed the hat for a moment to run one hand through his dark hair. "It's a pity we'll miss the service, but you need a title to get in there, I expect."

Angelique yawned. She had not dressed up for the occasion, rather she had her warmest shawl wrapped tight around her for all that it was a dull woollen grey and stained with mud or worse. "I can't believe you woke me up for this."

"Please don't be like that," Jean moaned. "I want to enjoy this."

"I'm sorry," Angelique muttered. "I'll be good, I promise. Ooh, I wonder what kind of dress Mademoiselle Cinderella will be wearing."

"I know, I can't wait to see it," Jean replied, craning his head a little to see over the heads of the people in front of him.

Angelique looked at him.

"What?" Jean asked.

"I was joking," Angelique said. "Somehow I don't think you can say the same."

"I like dresses, what of it?" Jean demanded. "I am a man, after all."

"Shouldn't men be interested in what's under the dress?"

"If gowns did not entice the eyes of men then women would not wear them," Jean declared with all the authoritative certainty of one who knows next to nothing about that of which he is speaking. "You don't think ladies wear corsets for their own enjoyment, do you?"

Angelique considered that, and found that it made a good deal more sense that she would expect out of Jean when he was pontificating on the lives of those he called – without a trace of irony – the quality. Certainly, now that she thought about it, she couldn't imagine wearing a long skirt that was begging to be tripped over, or binding your stomach in, or anything of that sort because _you_ liked it. It was possible, she supposed, but you'd have to be a fool, surely?

Still, just because he made a superficial kind of sense didn't mean that she was ready to concede the point just yet. "Perhaps, but I don't see why you'd rather look at a dozen feet of white muslin than see a leg."

"There's a mystery there," Jean said. "Waiting to be unravelled."

Angelique frowned a little as she looked down at her feet. Her own skirt, tatty and fraying at the hem, stopped a good six inches above her ankles. Her own feet – enclosed in rough clogs – and the bottoms of her legs were clearly visible. There was not much enticing there. Not that she cared about any of that sort of thing. Not at all.

"Hmph," she said. "When is this going to start?"

"I don't know," Jean said. "Have patience."

Angelique folded her arms. She had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

* * *

Cinderella stood as still as one of the many statues and suits of armour that lined the palace corridors as some of the servants helped her put on her dress. It was shimmering white, with a wide, full skirt and a tight bodice. It did not look especially flamboyant, in fact in many ways it was quite simple, but as Cinderella stood in it, examining herself in the full length mirror, turning and listening to her petticoat rustling underneath, she could not but think that Lucrecia had outdone herself.

Her hair was done up in a low bun, with only the bun and her bangs being visible under the juliet cap that covered most of her head. A long veil, stitched with pearls, hung down almost to the floor. Soft, short gloves covered her hands to the wrists, the gold band of her engagement ring sparkled amidst the white. Around her neck she wore the necklace that Eugene had given her, the strand of pearls looping tightly around her throat, allowing her to feel each round, perfect jewel against her neck, before swooping down against her breastbone, with the sapphire heart glittering in the centre of it all like a beautiful blue lake in a vast desert.

Purple shadow over her eyes enhanced the blue of her bright, sparkling orbs, as orange pencil made her eyes seem larger. Her lips had been painted in a glossy shade of pink. A soft blush upon her cheeks made her look slightly out of breath; to be honest she felt a little out of breath she was so excited, she could feel her chest straining to heave beneath the bodice. She could hardly eat anything at breakfast, anticipation had filled up her stomach with no room for food.

 _This is my wedding day. My wedding day!_ It was making her feel a little weak at the knees.

 _I love Eugene, I do. I love him with all my heart, and I will do whatever I must and be whatever I must to make him happy._

 _I will not lose him. He will not tire of me. I will do anything and everything to make sure of that._

"You look quite beautiful my dear," the Grand Duke said. "The whole realm will be enchanted."

"So long as Eugene is among them, I will be content," Cinderella said, smoothing out her skirt in front of the mirror. "Thank you, Your Grace, you are very kind to offer me a complement. Shall we go now?"

His Grace offered her his arm. "If you wish, m'lady."

Cinderella smiled as she picked up her skirt with one hand, lifting it up just enough that she could run - almost skipping - without fear of falling.

The Grand Duke led her to the gilded carriage, attended by half a hundred cavalrymen in brass helmets and long horsehair plumes, which whisked her off down streets lined with people, all of them looking at her. At first it made Cinderella want to drawn the curtains, but then she heard them shouting, yelling, cheering, and realised that they were celebrating her, not judging her.

 _Celebrating me. Who would have ever thought? Not even when father lived did I ever dream..._

"What should I do?" Cinderella asked.

"You need not do anything," the Grand Duke. "But if you wish to wave, that would be courteous and acceptable."

So Cinderella waved to the crowds from out of the carriage window, and with every wave the roar of the crowd grew louder.

* * *

"There she is!" Jean cried, swiping the hat off his own head and waving it in the air with one hand. "God bless your highness!"

"She isn't the princess yet," Angelique muttered.

"God bless your future highness!" Jean cried. "Wave, Angelique."

"Woo," Angelique said flatly as she waved her hand stiffly in the air above her head. The soon-to-be princess was putting on a good show, she had to admit, waving back with a bright smile upon her face. Loving every second of the attention, probably. Look at her, with all those pearls around her neck, and was that a sapphire? How many loaves of bread could that have bought, eh?

The thought made Angelique sour, and she only felt even more so the more she watched the future princess all in white smiling out at the assembled masses, stage managed to stand here in the cold and give her all their adulation. Yes, look at her, loving the attention, little miss perfect on top of the world. She didn't care about people like Angelique or Jean. She didn't even notice they existed. She just wanted to turn up on cue and cheer for her on command. It was sickening.

She found she couldn't look any longer, and so she turned away and let her hand drop to her side. She would have left, but the press of the crowd was too thick to do so easily, and Jean would have been hurt if she'd just left him there all alone. So Angelique stood in the press, the one person in all the realm who was not smiling, waving, cheering like an idiot, turning her eyes above the gormless faces of the poor crying out for someone who was just going to oppress.

And as she looked up, she saw-

"Jean," she said, grabbing his sleeve and tugging on it hard. "Hey, Jean!"

Jean turned to look at her, setting his tattered hat back on his head. "What is it, Angelique?"

"Look, up there," Angelique said, pointing to the roof of a two storey house opposite the cathedral.

Jean frowned as he looked to where her finger led. "I don't see anything."

"Keep looking," Angelique commanded.

They both looked, until the flash of sunlight on metal that had caught Angelique's eye appeared again.

"That's strange," Jean said. "Someone watching through a telescope, maybe?"

"Who'd need to do a thing like that?" Angelique asked. "Something doesn't smell right."

Jean scowled, and as he glanced back towards the carriage – Cinderella was now climbing out with help from some lord or other – Angelique could see the temptation on his face to ignore the whole thing, to rejoin the crowd in getting swept along by it all, to admire her dress or whatever. But, as much as he might infuriate her sometimes, Jean was a good man, and so he nodded his head. "Come on, then. Let's go see what's going on."

* * *

The carriage conveyed her all the way to the base of the steps leading up to the cathedral, a grand gothic structure rising towards heaven, and from the spires above Cinderella could hear the bells ringing. A red carpet had been spread down the steps and guards in black helmets lined the way with swords drawn.

"It really is a pageant isn't it?" Cinderella murmured. "It's a grand show."

"Indeed it is," His Grace said. "But do not forget that it is your show. In this pageant, you are the star."

"Yes," Cinderella said. "That's quite frightening, but at the same time rather wonderful."

"Come," said the Duke. "Let us not keep your adoring audience waiting."

He helped Cinderella out of the carriage and led her up the steps to more cheering.

Inside the cathedral antechamber, Serena and Grace were waiting for her.

"Oh, look at you, don't you look wonderful," Serena cooed.

"Absolutely beautiful," Grace said.

"You are the fairest of us all, Cinderella," Serena declared. "And you deserve to stand in first place amongst us."

Cinderella felt as though her real blushing would overwhelm the artificial blush upon her cheeks. "Thank you," she murmured. "And thank you both, so much, for agreeing to be my bridesmaids. I...I know that I haven't known you very long, but-"

"But I can already tell we're going to be great friends," Serena said. She handed Cinderella the bouquet, six white roses bound up with a pink ribbon tied into a dainty bow. "Here you go, the picture of innocent loveliness."

Grace smiled. "Are you nervous?"

"A little," Cinderella confessed. She smiled. "But mostly I...oh, I just can't wait to be married!"

Serena chuckled. "Then what are we standing out here for gossiping like a trio of hens. Come," she took her place just behind Cinderella. "Let's dazzle the whole watching world."

The doors opened, and Cinderella walked with grace and elegance and Grace and Serena all alike into the cathedral where her prince was waiting for her.

The church was a riot of colour as light from the hundreds of candles refracted off the stain glass windows that lined the transept, or glinted off the gold and silver that lay all around. In the pews, the great and good of Armorique and beyond sat, all dressed in all finery, and all eyes turned towards her.

And at the altar, with Etienne at his side and His Grace the Archbishop standing before him, waited Eugene, staring at her with his mouth slightly open.

Cinderella felt herself glowing with a mixture of pride and happiness, and she thought that she might float clean off the ground as she walked down the transept towards him while a choir of nuns sang in what she thought might be latin. In truth, she rather envied his ability to gawp at her, because he was by no means hideous himself, dressed in a uniform of some sort of sky blue, with gold brocade along his shoulders and dropping down across his chest. His left arm was covered by a scarlet pelisse trimmed with white fur, and his tasselled boots came up to his knees. Cinderella, however, had to keep moving down the aisle, and so she perforce had to appear more composed than Eugene did, even if she did not feel composed in the least.

And then she stood at the altar, with the Archbishop smiling benevolently down at her, and Eugene took her gloved hands in his own.

"You," he murmured. "You are..."

"Your silence was all I needed to hear," Cinderella said. "And if I could have stopped as well, I would have."

And so, before God and man under the eye of heaven, Prince Eugene of Armorique and Cinderella Tremaine were joined as man and wife: one heart, one flesh, one soul.

* * *

Jean gritted his teeth as the iron rivets securing the drainpipe to the wall dug into his fingertips as he shimmied his way up said pipe to the roof where Angelique had first spotted the suspicious metal glinting.

It was unfortunate that he was rather too familiar with this sort of business, but a man had to eat, especially when he had a lady to take care of and honest was scarce all over, even for an old-fashioned hero such as himself. And so, though it was a little bit of a struggle and although his fingers would be killing him by the time this was done, nevertheless he was able to make his way step by step up the pipe.

If anyone else had turned around to watch what was going on they would have thought him a burglar or worse – on any other day of the week they might even have been correct about that, worse luck (the burglar part anyway, he had never done anything worse than relieve people with too many valuables of some of the ones they could most easily part with) – as he climbed up a cast iron pipe towards the roof of someone's home or the like. They would hardly have understood that he was on an important mission to investigate suspicious goings on, would they?

Thankfully, the only person watching him at the moment was Angelique, who was stood at the bottom of the pipe looking up at him with a mixture of nervousness and admiration. That last, he conceded, was half the reason he was doing this. He liked her just the way she was, but he would be lying if he said he didn't feel a sense of pride in those moments where she looked at him as more than just stupid old Jean, her slightly dim, romantic friend and fellow orphan of the world; when she looked at him as brave Jean, strong Jean, heroic and noble Jean…that made the whole world seem a little brighter in his eyes.

The other reason, of course, was that he didn't want anything to ruin this glorious day for the future of all the folk like him and Angelique; it was essentially the same reason that all the people had turned out on the streets to cheer and wave, enraptured by the sight of the new princess the way that he would like to have been. He would have liked to have stayed in the crowd below, enchanted by Cinderella's radiant beauty. But alas, a hero's work was never done, even when the hero was only a pickpocket and a petty thief really.

And so he climbed up the pipe until he could poke his head above the parapet and see, in front of him, lying flat on the roof, a man all in grey. In his hands he held a musket, or maybe one of those fancy newfangled rifles, resting on the lip of the roof, pointed towards the cathedral.

 _My god! He's going to shoot the princess!_

Jean's blood turned to ice, and his fingers nearly lost so much of their senses that he came very close to losing his grip on the pipe and fell down to the street below. He looked down, to where Angelique waited, and pressed his finger to his lips.

She understood the need for quiet, even if she didn't understand the reason. She kept her mouth shut as she spread her arms wide in confusion.

Jean mimed a gun with one hand.

Angelique's eyes widened. She pointed up towards the roof.

Jean nodded, and pointed at the cathedral.

Angelique was still and silent for a moment, puzzlement reigning in her blue-eyed gaze, before she got the point. She nodded quickly, and began to force her way through the press towards the cathedral itself. It was slow going, unfortunately, what with the huge crowds, but Jean watched her go a little way in before he pulled himself up and onto the roof itself.

The sniper didn't notice. Whatever sound Jean made was drowned out by the crowd below.

Jean could feel the sweat staining his shirt and making his hands slick. Slowly, cautiously, quietly he pulled the stout club from out of his belt. It was about three feet long, brown wood, with a bulbous head like a whale or something. He didn't use it often – he might steal a purse or a pocket handkerchief every so often but he wasn't the sort of person to go around cracking people's skulls to relieve them of their valuables; mainly he used it to scare off some of the worse sorts you got haunting the alleyways, especially the ones who liked making eyes at Angelique – but he knew how to use it, if it came to it. As it had now.

With catlike tread, Jean began to make his way across the roof towards his target.

* * *

"Stay back," the stout sergeant with the halberd declared. "Keep the road clear, stay with the others."

"I have to get up to the church," Angeliqe declared. "You don't understand, their highnesses are in danger."

"Of course they are," the sergeant said, unsympathetically. "Run along, little girl, I've no time for your stories."

"Little girl?" Angelique yelled. "I'm sixteen, you fat lummox!" _It isn't my fault I'm underfed!_

The sergeant scowled. "Mind your language girl, before I send you away with a clip round the ear. Be off with you."

Angelique scowled. She could see someone coming out of the cathedral now…merde, it was the prince and princess, rushing down between the lines of soldiers without a care in the world, completely oblivious to the peril that they were both in.

 _Why should I care what peril their in? Why should I put myself out for any of them?_

 _Because it's the right thing to do._

Angelique huffed. "I'm sorry about this."

"Wh-"

Angelique hit him in the nadders. The sergeant let out a great oof of pain as he nearly doubled over, his halberd wobbling as he nearly lost his grip on it. He staggered backwards, clutching his pillar and stones in pain, and as he reeled away a gap in the line opened up.

"Hey, stop that! Stop that girl!"

And then Angelique was past them, darting out of the crowd with a half dozen guardsmen on their heels, rushing up the steps waving her arms. "Get back! Get back inside! Look out, he's got a gun!"

BANG!

* * *

Cinderella ran down the steps, with her dress gathered up in one hand and Eugene holding on to the other, down towards the waiting carriage that would whisk them away on their secluded honeymoon.

She felt so…happy was too mild a word. Ecstatic? Overjoyed? Euphoric? She felt all those things and more. She barely felt the steps beneath her feet, she barely saw the crowd in front of her. The only real thing she felt was Eugene's hand, because at this moment he was the only real thing in the world, her prince, her love, her husband.

A rapidly approaching figure intruded upon her blissful fantasy, a dirty, scruffy girl in a frayed and tattered dress, sprinting towards her with an ever-increasing number of soldiers hot on her heels, waving her arms as though she was trying to get Cinderella's attention.

"Get back! Get back inside! Look out, he's got a gun!"

BANG!

* * *

CREAK. The floorboard –roofboard, whatever you wanted to call it, groaned under Jena's inexpertly placed foot.

A half dozen feet still separated him from the assassin, who now looked up and turned his head around to stare at Jean with a furious gaze.

Jean leapt on instinct, a howl rising from his throat as he raised his wooden club up high and swept it down again as he landed on the other man's back.

BANG! The gun went off even as the barrel jerked upwards, and the assassin cried out as Jean hit him hard in the small of the back. Jean raised his club to hit him again, to bring the knotted wood down on his head next, but the other fellow blocked the blow with one hand, squirming like a bug under Jean's grip.

The man bucked like a wild horse, throwing Jean off for a moment. The other was on his feet in an instant, poised to run.

Jean tackled him before he got five paces, bearing him once more to the roof where they rolled and grappled like a pair of wrestlers diving in the dirt for the amusement of the meagre crowd in some backalley pit. Jean howled in pain as the other man dug his thumb into Jean's eye, while his foe yelled as Jean punched him on the jaw with all the strength at his command. They turned over and over, rolling towards the edge of the roof as they punched and kicked and bit and tussled and wrangled and grappled with one another, locked together in a fight that neither could win, but neither could escape.

And then there was no more roof left.

They kept on fighting as the ground rushed towards them, turning over and over in the air now, pummelling one another as much as they could before the pavement would do it to both of them.

Jean thought of Angelique before it all went black.

* * *

BANG!

Cinderella's headlong rush down the stairs came to a stop as the thunderous crack, sharper than any firework, split the sky. The cheers began to fade, replaced by screams of fright as the adulating crowd before her began to dissolve into confusin and panic.

 _What's going on? What's happening?_

"Cinderella!" Eugene was yelling her name, although she hardly heard him, just like she hardly haired the scruffy girl shouting as a pair of guards bore her to the ground beneath their weight, just like she hardly heard Etienne Gerard as, with a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other he bellowed out commands to all the waiting soldiers.

"Cinderella!" Eugene kept yelling, keeping a tight hold upon her hand as he pulled her back up the stairs. "Cinderella, come on!"

"I don't understand," she murmured. Her head was spinning, her stomach was rolling up and down, up and down; just a moment ago all had been heaven and she had felt as though nothing could disturb the joy she felt but now...now...

"Come on," Eugene cried, grabbing her around the waist as he manhandled her back up the cathedral steps. "It isn't safe out here."

Etienne gestured at something with his sword, and Cinderella looked back - her veil whirled around her as she turned her head, wrapping around her neck and shoulders like a large scarf or a shawl, to see two men grappling with one another on a roof opposite the church, rolling over and over until they disappeared off the roof's edge and into the press of people down below.

And they Eugene pulled her back inside the chapel, helped by a multitude of waiting hands eager to recieve them both: Lucrecia, whom Cinderella had invited to attend the wedding and see her creation as it was intended to be worn, Serena, Grace, even His Grace and His Majesty himself helped thet two of them back inside and closed the doors.

"What in heaven?" Lucrecia gasped.

"Someone tried to kill my son!" His Majesty yelled. "MY SON! Infamy! Infamy, I say this day shall live in infamy!"

 _Someone tried to kill Eugene? Today? But why?_ Cinderella found that her breathing was coming faster and faster now, her bosom heaving and straining. She could hardly breathe at all, and she felt so weak, her throat was dry her stomach was a yawning pit and the combination of the excitement she had felt and now this terror that had gripped the room it, was all so...so...

"I don't...I don't understand," she murmured, as she found that her quivering, trembling legs would no longer support her. She felt herself sliding down the wall, folding up towards the floor.

"Cinderella?" Eugene said. "Cinderella are you alright?"

She tried to answer, but no words came out before everything went black.

* * *

 _Author's Note: this is not a great chapter, I must confess. I was a bit blocked on it but you can't skip the wedding because…well, it's the wedding. I considered a lot of different ways to introduce Jean and Angelique into the story, because I think they add a needed perspective on things, some of which were even melodramatic than this and involved even more digressions of the plot, before I eventually decided to bring them in this chapter._

 _Next chapter, when Cinderella wakes up from her fainting spell, will hopefully be an improvement._


	9. On Her Way

On Her Way

Cinderella opened her eyes to see angels dancing above her, painted onto the curving ceiling with rosy cheeks and cherubic countenances. She was lying on a bed but not in it; she could feel the pillow upon which her head rested just as she could feel the quilt upon which she lay. She could also feel the low bun of her hair pressing against the nape of her neck, meaning that whoever had put her to bed hadn't rearranged her hair while they were about it.

 _Where am I? I don't recognise this place._

 _What's going on?_

The blanket underneath her rustled softly as Cinderella sat up.

"You're awake! Oh, thank heavens!"

It was only when the voice drew attention to the fact that Cinderella realised that she was not alone. The room in which she had awoken looked, apart from the bed, really rather like somebody's office: it had a desk opposite her bed, strategically placed in front of the window to get the best of the light coming in from outside (although the blue curtains were drawn so the only light at the moment came from candles set in sconces on the wall) and laden with assorted curiosities. A cross hung on the undecorated stone wall, not far from the heavy wooden door with black iron hinges. A few chairs were scattered here and there and it was those chairs, all facing her, in which were seated Serena, Grace and Lucrecia.

"Hello," Cinderella murmured, feeling rather embarassed by everything. [i]Fainting away like some sort of gothic heroine. Really![/i] "I, uh, I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."

Grace giggled. "Oh, really, Your Highness, you are far too much the darling."

Serena rose to her feet with a fond smile upon her face. "Never mind that, princess," she said, walking briskly across the room to sit down on the bed next to Cinderella, taking one of her hands in her own. Her hands were warm, and her touch was gentle. "So long as you're alright now, that's all that matters. How do you feel?"

"More embarrassed than anything," Cinderella admitted, looking down...which was when she noticed that someone had opened up the front of her bodice, exposing her silver slip to view. "Oh."

"We wanted to give you a little more room to breathe, Highness," Grace explained. "That, incidentally, is why His Highness isn't here right now. We didn't want to ruin all the wonderful surprises of the wedding night."

"Oh, hush, Grace, don't tease the poor dear, she's been through enough," Serena declared, in tones that managed to be scolding without seeming cruel or harsh. Nevertheless her voice softened a little as she turned back to Cinderella and said, "Prince Eugene isn't here because he's taking charge outside. Directing troops, giving orders, that sort of thing; it's all very dashing, if you could see it."

Cinderella nodded. "Where am I?"

"In the sacristan's office," Serena said. "Apparently he sleeps here as often as not, so it had a place for you to lie down."

Cinderella frowned slightly. "I suppose I've made a bit of a fool of myself, haven't I?"

"Of course not, Highness, of course not!" Serena cried. "Dozens of brides faint on their wedding day and most of them haven't got the excuse of some odious fellow shooting at their husbands. Although, you must admit, it could have been a lot worse."

"Yes," Cinderella murmured. "He might not have missed."

Serena hesitated for a beat. "Well, yes, I suppose that too. But what I was going to say was that at least he had the decency to wait until after the ceremony to start disrupting the day."

Cinderella snorted. "I suppose you're right."

"I'm always right," Serena declared. Her finger touched the wedding ring on Cinderella's finger, turning the band of gold around. "Whatever happens now you are married, and a princess, and that cannot be taken away from you. Till death do you part."

Grace stood up. "The prince will be keen to know that you're up and feeling better. Shall we go fetch him for you."

"Yes, thank you," Cinderella replied. "Lucrecia, will you please help me look presentable?" she couldn't go back into the main chapel in front of all the guests with her bodice open and only a slip to protect her modesty.

"Of course, Your Highness."

"Thank you, all of you," Cinderella said. "For watching over me."

Serena curtsied. "An honour to serve, Princess Cinderella."

 _Princess Cinderella._ Cinderella shivered slightly as Serena and Grace departed, the heavy door squeaking as they opened it and then squeaking shut behind them. _That sounds...heavy. Am I strong enough to bear the weight?_

 _I hope so._

 _Yes, I am._

 _I have to be, or I should never have taken this ring._

"Stand up for me please, Highness, if you wouldn't mind," Lucrecia said, as she picked up the folds of her lavender gown and crossed the floor towards Cinderella.

"You don't have to call me that," Cinderella murmured as she rose to her feet.

"Call you what, Your Highness?"

"That, 'Highness' all the time," Cinderella replied. "I don't feel any different."

Lucrecia smiled. "But you are different, nevertheless." She bent down a little to begin fastening up Cinderella's bodice. "You are the princess and I am the dressmaker, and there are proprieties to be observed."

"You're more than just a dressmaker, Lucrecia."

Lucrecia looked at her. "You are very kind to say so, Highness; but that first, always. Now, it's a good thing that you weren't wearing a corset or we might have had to completely undress you to let you breathe again."

Cinderella chuckled. "I suppose I should thank you for tailoring to my waist measurements, not to my waist minus six inches."

Lucrecia grinned. "With respect, Your Highness, I'm not altogether sure that you have six inches to spare."

Cinderella laughed. "You look lovely, by the way. Lavender suits you. And I'm so glad you could come."

Lucrecia glowed just a little with pride. "Thank you, princess. Though I should be thanking you, if you had not desired so simple a wedding gown I doubt I would have had time to throw anything together for myself. And you were so kind to invite me, I'm very glad I came." She fastened the last but one of the clasps on the front of the bodice. "He's very handsome, isn't he?"

"Eugene? Oh, yes," Cinderella said, with a slight sigh in her voice.

"His Highness? Oh, I'm so sorry Your Highness, I never meant to suggest that...I mean of course..." Lucrecia paused for a moment. "Forgive me, Princess, my thoughts ran ahead of my words, I meant Etienne Gerard, the best man. There, Your Highness, all done."

"Thank you," Cinderella murmured. "But...Colonel Gerard? You think he's handsome?" Speaking for herself Cinderella found his countenance rather craggy; while Eugene could sometimes look boyishly younger than his years Etienne Gerard always seemed older, with none of his brother's puckish energy either.

"But of course," Lucrecia exclaimed. "Look at his eyes, I could drown in them. And the way he bears himself, such proud posture. And yet...when he came into my boutique with his sister he became tongue-tied at the sight of me. It was...lovely."

"You're smitten, aren't you?" Cinderella asked, speaking from experience.

Lucrecia shrugged. "Is that so terrible?"

"Terrible? No, of course not, it's wonderful. I wish you ever happiness and good fortune. Now, have you seen my necklace and veil?"

"The veil is on the table, I have the necklace here with me," Lucrecia said. "You really do want to look exactly as you did?"

"Should I not?"

"You may look as you wish," Lucrecia said. "Turn around, princess."

Cinderella did as she was bidden, feeling the cold pearls upon her skin as Lucrecia wrapped them around her neck. She could see the reflection of the light glittering off the sapphire heart, even if she couldn't feel the gem itself. "Lucrecia…can I tell you a secret?"

Lucrecia was silent for a moment. "I will take your confidence to my grave, Highness."

"I'm afraid…I'm afraid that that shot was meant for me," Cinderella murmured.

Lucrecia gasped. "What would make you say such a thing?"

"It's what the girl said," Cinderella replied. "Is she alright? She wasn't hurt, was she?"

"She is fine, though you wouldn't know it from her complaining," Lucrecia muttered. "But…you believe her?"

"Shouldn't I?"

"She's just…I don't think she knows anything."

"I just…" Cinderella sighed. "I don't know. I know with my head that it makes more sense that it was Eugene they meant to kill, but…with my heart…this is the first time that I've been seen in public, or the first time that anyone could know of in advance, don't you see? If the shot was for Eugene…why now, surely there must be easier ways?"

"Without meaning to seem morbid, Your Highness, will there not be easier ways for you?"

Cinderella laughed grimly. "Oh, I'm sure, but if you were impatient…oh, I don't know, but…I can't…"

Cinderella could feel Lucrecia's hand upon her arm. The dressmaker spoke. "Does it frighten you?"

"Yes," Cinderella confessed.

"What will you do?"

Cinderella looked down at the shimmering white gown that embraced her. "I want to do things with my life: I want to make my husband happy, and help all those less fortunate than I am. I'm not…I don't intend to let being afraid stop me from doing either of those things." _I've lived in fear too long, fear of my stepmother, fear of punishment, fear of my own unkindness, fear of the future…I am afraid, but I will be ruled by it no more._

"I am resolved to act in that manner which will, in my opinion, constitute my own happiness," Lucrecia said. "Without reference to you or any other person wholly unconnected with me."

"What?"

"It's from my favourite book, Your Highness," Lucrecia explained.

Cinderella smiled. "Wise words, if just a little selfish."

"The last words are the key ones, I think," Lucrecia said. "It's not an injunction not to care, it's about not letting yourself be ruled by those who think they can order your life without knowing you or caring a whit for you one way or the other."

 _Like stepmothers._ "Then they are wise words, to be sure."

There was a knock on the door. "Cinderella, may I come in?"

Cinderella stepped back a pace from Lucrecia. "Yes, of course."

The door opened with a creak and Eugene stood there with a somewhat grave look on his face. He stepped into the room, and nodded tersely at Lucrecia. "Mademoiselle Adessi."

Lucrecia curtsied. "Your Highness." She nodded once in Cinderella's direction, then picked up the folds of her dress and made her exit as discreetly as she could, winding around Eugene and out of the door, closing it behind her as softly as was possible.

And then Eugene was standing in front of her, staring down at her, gripping her hands in his own. "Thank God you're alright. I'm so sorry that this happened, I…we will find who did this, I promise. I've already asked Etienne to look into it while we're away, he's going to take care of everything."

"You don't need to apologise for this," Cinderella replied. "It wasn't you, it…it was almost an accident."

"An accident?"

"No, but…what I mean is that it was something no one could have expected," Cinderella said. "It was…like lightning, it just seemed to happen. You're not responsible for that, no one is. You don't have to apologise." She looked down. "In fact, I think I should be the one apologising."

"Whatever for? You just said-"

"Not for this, no," Cinderella said softly. "For…before. I feel as though I've been very selfish. Ever since you asked me to marry you…I seem to have made everything about myself, no matter how what it has meant for you. For that, I'm very sorry. It won't happen again, you must tell if it does…then I can stop."

"Cinderella," he murmured. She felt his fingers on her chin, gently tilting her head upwards, turning it so that she was once more looking into his eyes. "Where does this come from?"

She placed her hand around his wrist, the candle light glimmering upon the golden band wrapped snugly around her finger, making the diamond and the sapphires in her engagement ring sparkle in a myriad of colours. "Can you deny it?"

"Yes," Eugene replied. "I think…honestly, I think you haven't been selfish enough, you seem to worry about what I think about everything, down to simple things like what you wear or how you're hair is done, as if I were some kind of ogre who will fly into a rage and punish you over the slightest wavering from my desires."

"So there are things I've done that you don't like?"

"Not the point," he said firmly. "We are husband and wife, not master and slave. Love, honour and obey, yes, but not in every tiny, insignificant detail. Be yourself, and do me the credit of assuming that I can take it, instead of seeming to fear that I cannot."

Cinderella's mouth would have hung open hand it not been for Eugene's hand upon her chin. Her eyes were wide, she could hardly believe it. She had thought that… _have I been treating him like my Stepmother? Have I been afraid of his judgement in the same way? Have I been seeing our relationship the same way?_ Not completely, no, but there were some things that, looking back on the last few days, she recognised without a doubt, especially hear fear of confronting him, her fear of the consequences of his disapproval; her half-understood worry that one day his love would turn to cruelty exactly as that of her stepmother and stepsisters had done, or rather be revealed to have never been love at all but just a cruel trick and manipulation; the way that she had been planning to please him to keep him, to do whatever he asked of her, be whatever he wanted of her…when she had been a girl, when Lady Tremaine had first taken everything away from her, when the humiliation had first begun, when the abuse had started, Cinderella had believed that she must have done something wrong, made some mistake, upset her Stepmother somehow to have made all her kindness turn to cruelty of a sudden.

It had taken her a long time, too long, to learn that no amount of good and obedient behaviour was going to make the cruelty vanish and the love return.

 _And now I almost let what happened to me then ruin my happiness now!_ "I'm such a fool."

"No," Eugene whispered. "No, you…you are someone who has endured much, so much that I…I am sorry that you had to endure this also."

"I'm fine," Cinderella said. "Serena and Grace didn't mention anyone being hurt; everyone is alright, aren't they?"

"No one has been seriously injured," Eugene said. "The young girl who tried to warn us has taken a few bruises from the guards, unfortunately, and the boy has a nasty bump on the head, but they'll recover. The shooter was hurt as well, of course, but that's no cause for shame."

"The boy?" Cinderella said. "And you caught the man responsible, then what is there for Etienne to investigate?"

"Who he was working for, assuming he was working for anyone," Eugene said. "As for the boy - forgive me, I forgot that you've been resting this whole time – at the same time as the young lady was trying to warn us, a friend of hers was tackling the assassin directly. That's why his shot missed. They were both trying to save us."

"No, they did save us," Cinderella said. "It is…it is only thanks to them that we are both here, now. We owe them more than we can ever repay. And yet we have to repay them something."

"They'll both receive something for their trouble, of course," Eugene said. "Did you have anything else in mind?"

"I don't know," Cinderella murmured. She stepped around Eugene towards the door. "Can I meet them?"

Eugene took her hand. "Of course. Come with me, and I'll introduce you to the heroes of the hour."

* * *

In the midst of the cathedral, surrounded by those who might have taken for themselves the name 'the great and the good', Angelique and Jean were utterly alone.

No one came too close to them. From the moment that the guards had stopped treating her like a potential accomplice – and without even so much as an apology, no less! – practically no one had. The officer in his red uniform, who seemed to be directing the soldiers, had said a few words to her. The Prince had been even more terse in his conversation. Aside from that they had stuffed into a pew and then abandoned.

 _The reward for heroism._

Jean, had she said that out loud, would probably have explained to her that the rewards of virtue were spiritual or some such thing. He was a nice boy, but he could be very foolish sometimes. Nobody actually believe that. That was part of the reason they were in this mess: for what they had done they could not simply be dismissed, but for what they were they could not be feted either.

And so they waited, hovering between loved and hated, in a limbo of silence, the centre of attention and yet publicly ignored by all.

Angelique could see them glancing at her out of the corners of their eyes. She could hear them whispering. It was driving her mad, and making her far angrier than the rash action of the guards was. The bruises they had given her would fade in time, and the knowledge that they had simply been doing their jobs was a balm to her frustration, but the way that these rich men and women, these aristocrats, were treating her and her best boy was almost more than she could stand.

 _Who are you to look down on me?_ She wanted to yell. _What gives you the right to sneer at the likes of me and mine? Am I not a person, like you? Did you not scream when you were born the way I did? Take away your wealth, your jewels, your fancy clothes and stand naked next to me and I'll be found as good as any one of you._

And Jean…she might complain about him, and roll her eyes at him, and she might even think him a fool every now and then but…but he was loyal and kind and he would never hurt her, never in a hundred thousand years. She would take him over any man of the beau monde any day if even half the stories of the behaviour of the 'upper class' be true.

 _I know my worth, and I know what he is worth as well. I don't need anyone to approve of me, not even the King himself._

Angelique started coughing.

"Are you alright, Angelique?" Jean asked.

"I'm fine," she said quickly once her sputtering had subsided. "How's your head?"

Jean grinned. "I'll be fine so long as I can keep from prodding it." He looked away. "I think Her Highness must be awake. Look, her ladies have just come out and they are speaking to the prince."

"How nice," Angelique muttered.

"Please don't be sour, Angelique."

Angelique sighed. "I'm sorry. Maybe I could muster more enthusiasm if we weren't being treated like we've got the plague or something."

"The princess will be different," Jean said.

Angelique shook her head imperceptibly. "I can't share your faith in her."

"Then have faith in me instead," Jean replied earnestly. "All will be well, I promise."

Angelique looked into his eyes, big and brown and soft. He had kind eyes. That was why she had stuck with him for so long. Not many people had kind eyes on the streets, even fewer than had friends. She had always told herself that, when he stopped being kind, when she could no longer see kindness in his eyes, then it would be time to move on and leave him behind.

That hadn't happened yet.

Angelique nodded. "Okay, but listen…whatever comes next…it'll still be you and me, yes? Together against everything, no matter what?"

Jean smiled. "Of course. No matter what." He shot to his feet. "Look, here she comes."

Angelique might not have felt much affection towards the princess, but she knew to get to her feet as Prince Eugene led Princess Cinderella out into the main cathedral transept. Either she had slept – or whatever you called it when someone was out cold after a faint, sleep was as good as anything in her opinion – in all her bridal finery or else she had put it all back on after she woke up, because she had a veil flowing down from the cap on her head, glittering with diamonds and pearls, not to mention the pearls wrapped around her throat and the sapphire heart hanging from them.

She certainly looked the part, Angelique had to admit. Small wonder that the prince had fallen for her.

She glanced at Jean out of the side of her eyes. _Should I be jealous?_

Attendants pressed close around the royal couple, pestering them with questions; one man in particular seemed particularly intent on forcing his presence upon the princess: he was tall, with dark hair in boyish curls, and he kissed her free hand – the one that wasn't being held by her husband – more than once. The princess seemed glad to see him, although the prince looked distinctly put out by him and seemed more glad when the officer who had spoken to them earlier half manhandled the young man away. The princess did not seem to notice her husband's dislike for the other fellow, nor did he appear to say anything to her.

 _What was that about?_

The prince led his princess by the hand as the pair of them bore down upon Jean and Angelique. Jean dropped to one knee, leaving Angelique to hurriedly follow suit.

"Your Highnesses," Jean said, head bowed. "I am most glad to see you both safe and sound."

There was a pause, and then Angelique felt…someone kiss her on the forehead.

"Thank you," a woman said, a woman with a sweet voice, soft with a kind of breathy quality to it. "Thank you so much, for what you did today."

Angelique dared to look up to see the princess Cinderella smiling down at the pair of them, her blue eyes twinkling.

Jean found his voice first. "It was nothing, really, Your Highness."

 _Don't say that, you idiot! Now she won't give us anything!_

Cinderella wrapped one arm through the crook of that of her prince. "You save my husband's life; that is not nothing, and it never will be. You have my gratitude, and you always will. The question is, what do you want to do with it?"

 _She's asking us to name our own reward?_ Angelique hadn't expected that. She had thought to get what she was given and be thankful for it. The idea that she could say what she wanted and get it, it was…what did she want, anyway?

She hadn't really thought about it? What did she want? Unfortunately the answer to that question led to things that no prince or princess had it in her power to give her: a home to call hers, where she could sit with Jean in front of a roaring fire in a cosy living room with no need to worry about where their next meal would come from. She wanted not to be looked down upon by anybody. She wanted to be carefree. She wanted to sleep through the night undisturbed by worries. She wanted to be able to walk down the street to the shops and buy everything she wanted and not have to sneak around snatching loaves or picking pockets. She wanted…she wanted to be happy.

 _I could ask her to give us a house, I suppose? But how would we live? There will be limits, even to her eternal gratitude, I'm sure._

Jean appeared to have lost his tongue as well, he was staring up at the princess as though he were a moonstruck calf.

"Would you like to think about it?" His Highness suggested.

 _Oh, absolutely not, I'm not giving you the chance to forget all about us!_

"No!" Angelique said, too loudly and too forcefully. She deliberately softened her tone. "No, your highness, it's just…" she decided to take a chance upon the edge of impertinence. "It's just that we have so very little, we two, and so it is hard to think of any bauble that you might grant us that could improve our lives."

Prince Eugene did look slightly affronted by her tone, and if the princess had been the same then Angelique would have had to admit that she had gone too far, but the princess merely looked thoughtful.

"Do you have any parents, either of you?" she asked.

"No, Your Highness," Jean said.

She nodded. "Are you brother and sister?"

"No, princess," Angelique murmured. "Though it feels a little like it sometimes."

She smiled. "And…do you have anywhere to live?"

Angelique and Jean glanced at each other.

"We do not, Highness," Jean said.

She whispered something to her husband. He whispered back, and they held a brief hushed conversation before he nodded.

Angelique did not believe that Princess Cinderella could be much older than their fifteen years. Nevertheless, she knelt down before them even in her pristine wedding dress, so that she almost had to look up at them, rather than the other way around.

"How would you both like to enter the royal household?" she asked.

It was only with great effort that Angelique prevented her jaw from dropping.

"Your Highness, I'm afraid we don't understand," Jean murmured.

"What are you names?" Cinderella asked.

"I am Jean Taurillion, Highness."

"And my name is Angelique Bonnet, princess."

Cinderella smiled at them both. "Very well. Jean, my prince will make you an officer of the Guard, that you may keep us safe with all the bravery that you have already displayed. And Angelique…I so want to help all those like you, and yet I know so little about you and the way you live; as one of my ladies in waiting I trust you to advise me, so that I can use my position to really do what is best for the poor and the needy. Will you help me?"

Angelique wanted to laugh. _So our reward for doing you a good service is to be given the opportunity to go right on serving?_

And yet…

And yet…

And yet it wasn't as if they had anywhere to go back to. Or any pressing business to take care of. Or a roof over their heads. Or a guarantee of a meal. This would give them all that.

And besides…being an officer would suit Jean. She could picture him prancing around in a fancy uniform with a sword and a sash and all that. And if she couldn't picture herself in a dress, well, she could get used to it.

And it really would suit Jean. He was looking at her, but she could see the eagerness in his eyes. He wanted this. If she wasn't here he would have bitten the princess' hand off by now. The only reason he had not was that he wanted to know how she would react.

He was keeping his promise: together no matter what.

She couldn't use his loyalty to make him miserable. And who knew what might happen? She might end up enjoying it herself.

Angelique nodded. "Thank you, Your Highness, you are very generous. And we will gladly accept."

"And humbly, too," Jean declared. "I swear, your highnesses will have no better servants."

Cinderella giggled. "You're already off to a wonderful start."

There was some muttering around them, surprised and disapproving murmurings of the high.

"Your Highness," quibbled a lady in a fancy dress. "This is highly irregular."

Cinderella rose to face them all. "Is it so outrageous a reward for those who have saved the life of the Crown Prince of Armorique?"

Angelique suppressed a smile as she worked out what the princess had done a moment before the nobles did. Of course, none of them could really say no to a question like that, could they? Not in as many words, not with the prince in front of them and the King puffing out his chest behind them. She had them over a barrel with this. _That was actually quite clever_.

"I have to go now," Cinderella said to them. "But I look forward to getting to know you better when I return." She looked up at the prince. "Shall we?"

"Indeed," the prince said, as she led her out of the cathedral and off on their honeymoon.

Jean watched them go as the cheering of the crowds outside rose in fervour and volume alike. "You know," he said. "I think things are going to be okay."

Angelique slid her hand into his, and squeezed it tight. "Yes. At least I hope so."

* * *

At the back of the cathedral, Princess Frederica Eugenie de la Fontaine of Normandie began to laugh.

"Your highness, what is the matter?" Anton asked.

Frederica's smile was savage. "I have been reprieved, Anton. My father's incompetence has saved me from his wrath."

Anton frowned. "Forgive me, princess, I don't understand."

"He failed in what he set out to do," Frederica said, not specifying what that was in case anyone was listening. "If it is discovered it will mean war with Armorique, and with Prince Eugene's loyal lapdog sniffing around how can he be sure that it will not come out?" She gestured with her head towards Etienne Gerard, a man who might or might not find out the truth but would certainly not rest until he had exhausted all avenues of inquiry into the near death of his friend. "For his own sake, and the sake of our country, he will have to trust me to stay here and set things right." She laughed again. "Don't start packing yet, Anton, I think we're going to be here for a while."

* * *

The crowds lining the roadside cheered and waved as the carriage clattered down the boulevard, followed by two troops of dragoons in brass helmets and gaudy uniforms, there to protect them from any more incidents like that which had almost ruined the day.

Cinderella waved out the window at the masses as they cheered for her. _Almost ruined. Almost, but not. If it wobbled a little, if it isn't absolutely perfect, then what does that matter? It has been absolutely wonderful all the same._

She turned, to see Eugene staring at her hungrily.

 _Just as I almost ruined this, but did not, and now it is wonderful,_ she thought. _The best man in all the world and he is mine. Mine to have and mine to hold and mine to love._

 _Forever after._

They kissed as the carriage whisked them away.

 _A/N: The book that Lucrecia quotes is, of course, Pride and Prejudice, specifically Lizzie's words to Lady Catherine._

 _This chapter changed a bit during the writing of it, particularly the brief conversation between Cinderella and Eugene in the office. I really wanted, and still want, to do something here that I never got around to showing in Sunset in a Gilded Frame which is show that living for years in that awful house has made Cinderella insecure and to an extent willing to bow rather than fight back. I think you can justify that from the film, although there are moments were she stands up for herself there are also times when she submits without much protest even though she's in the right. Originally that tendency was going to go unmentioned for a while (it's sort of hinted at in the previous chapter where Cinderella thinks about doing whatever she has to to keep Eugene) and drive Eugene a bit mad before Cinderella admitted what she was doing. Then, in another idea she had, he was going to agree with Cinderella when she apologised for being so selfish…until I realised that made him look like a bit of a tool and it was very arguable whether she had actually been very selfish anyway (I think I was thinking of Darkmaster of the arts' comment on SIAGF where xe called her self-absorbed; I hope she hasn't that bad yet so far in this one). The idea that he would push back, and that Cinderella would have an epiphany, came quite late; I hope you like it. She'll struggle with her self-esteem, but I think she'll be armed against it a little bit more now with a little self-awareness._


	10. Such Luxury

Such Luxury

As the royal carriage clattered down the cobbled road, the voice of a dragoon of their escort raised in song and accompanied by the taut strains of a mandolin, slipped past the velvet curtains and in through the windows.

 _The blushing bride is looking fine,_

 _The bridegroom he is doing fine,_

 _I'd rather have his job than mine,_

 _When I'm cleaning windows_

Eugene rolled his eyes. "I can stop that, if you like."

Cinderella smiled. "No, it's fine; it's only a song after all."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"As long as they're not actually spying on us in the...in the bedroom," Cinderella murmured. The truth was...the truth was that it wasn't the wedding night that worried her most, although that was a source of uncertainty and trepidation for her. But if the marital bed-chamber was shrouded in mystery for Cinderella that mystery was less nerve-inducing for her than the prospect of everything else. She felt as though happiness and fear were waging war within her heart, surging back and forth like two armies evenly matched in courage and numbers and the quality of their weapons contesting the same ground over and over again unable to drive off their foes and secure a decisive victory.

Every time Eugene looked at her although she was the sun and he the flowers that opened to her light, every time he time he kissed her then happiness made great gains because, really, what reason did she have not to be happy? She was married to a wonderful man, she was free and she was loved and all things were perfect in the garden of her private. But then, like shadows closing in around the candle as the tallow burns low, doubts and fears and uncertainty crept back in frm the corners of her soul. Two weeks alone with him - apart from the servants - sounded so bissfully wonderful except...how would she entertain him for all that time? Would he not grow bored with after just a few days with no distractions to disguise the fact that she was but a passive, listless girl with nothing to distinguish her? And if she bored him, as she probably would, what then?

 _These are your Stepmother's words, not yours._

Cinderella knew that, she could recognise st least in part the thoughts that were born out of her Stepmother's house and cruelty...but that did not make it any easier to fight them off, nor could she simply banish them by denial. They were a part of her and would be, if not forever then for a long time at least. She could not be rid of them. All she could do was remember - or believe, at least ( _no, stop that, it isn't. Eugene told you so himself, this very day!)_ \- that they were false fears planted in her head by a false woman; even if one who - and this was nearly as hard to admit as recognising just how she had effected Cinderella and mind - could have been much worse.

"You're very quiet," Eugene observed. "A penny for them?"

Cinderella was not about to give him all her thoughts - she would not burden him with all her indecision and her struggle, but only those parts of herself that he could love - and so she said, "I was thinking about me Stepmother and stepsisters, and how they could have treated me far worse than they did."

Eugene's eyebrows rose. "I'm finding that difficult to believe, from what you've told me."

"Yes, they made me their servant in my own house but at least I still had a house," Cinderella replied. "Look at Angelique, look at Jean. Their clothes are falling apart, they have no roof over their heads...if I had been

One of them..." _Would we ever have met?_ She almost asked him, but did not because it was not so simple a question as it seemed because, of course, a scullery maid should never have gotten within a hundred yards of the crown prince either. Would a fairy godmother still have shone her light upon a homeless girl? Would she even have known there was a ball that night without her tenuous connection to the eigible maidens of the Tremaine family?

And of course, there was the fact that she still hadn't told Eugene how exactly she had gotten to the ball in the first place, an omission that she should probably rectify. She had no problem keeping a few secrets from him, but too many insignificant ones would choke their marriage. Yet how to explain magic without seeming mad? On the other hand, if a claim of talking mice that she could not prove had not made him think her fit for the asylum what more harm would talk of magic do?

 _See what you have done to me, Stepmother? I can do nothing, not even mount a defence of your behaviour, without my thoughts flying into a whirl because I cannot tell which fears I should be genuinely wary of and which are phantoms!_

"Cinderella?" Eugene said. "Are you alright?"

Cinderella forced herself to smile and hoped that it seemed genuine. "I was just saying...they could have turned me out onto the street like Jean and Angelique and so many other poor people who have not even the meagre comforts I enjoyed; but they didn't, and I suppose I owe them thanks for that."

"One doesn't thank someone for reaching a basic level of humanity," Eugene said sharply. "She ought to have love you like a daughter."

"I know," said Cinderella, in a tone as gentle as a morning breeze. "But since she hated me instead...I should probably be grateful that her hate was limited to the bounds that she set on it."

Eugene frowned. "So what will you do?"

"I don't know yet," Cinderella confessed. "I just feel that I ought to do something."

* * *

It was getting dark by the time they arrived at the Summer Palace where they would spend their honeymoon. A few lanterns were lit in the windows, shining like the beacon of a lighthouse out into gathering gloom to guide their carriage and their escort hither like a stately ship guided to safe harbour in the teeth of a storm, but otherwise there was little that Cinderella could see of the place where she would spend the next two weeks. There was not even much of a silhouette, with the sunlight fading and the sky clouding darkly over, for her to really get a sense of the scale or otherwise of this place.

"It's a little dark for a grand tour, I think you'll agree," Eugene said as he helped her down from the carriage. "Which is a bit of a pity, but there's always tomorrow, but for now-"

Cinderella felt a drop of rain land on her hand, followed swiftly by another landing on the white sleeve of her dress, leaving a minute grey blotch upon the silk.

"For now you should probably get out of the rain," Eugene concluded as he ushered her inside the house through the front door was that already open to receive them. Cinderella got some impression of a large shape looming over the open portal – some kind of gargoyle or the like – but she had no clear view in the dark and no time to get a better one, as it was she got inside just before the heavens opened up upon the house an grounds, deluging both alike with a constant stream of water from above.

"Oh dear," Cinderella said. "All those men outside, and the servants…"

"I'm sure they'll manage somehow," Eugene declared breezily. "Though I hope it clears up before it turns the grounds to a quagmire."

Cinderella couldn't help but feel that he was being awfully dismissive of what it was actually like to, for example, unload a carriage in the teeth of a rainstorm (yes, she was glad to be inside where the torrent wasn't going to ruin her dress, but she also remembered the time when she had had to perform that difficult task in those odious circumstances, and how much she would have appreciated some assistance). It was true that many hands might make light work, and it was also true that most of the baggage had gone on ahead in an earlier coach with Duchamp and Planchet, Eugene's valet; but…well, the trouble with justifications was that you could justify almost anything with them. Probably her stepsisters could have justified could have justified leaving her to get drenched while they rushed inside but that hadn't made it any more pleasant for her.

And that wasn't even mentioning the dragoon guards.

"Are you sure there isn't something I-"

"You're not a servant any longer," Eugene said, firmly though not unkindly. "You needn't do these things any more." He took her by the arm and led her into the house. Most of it was dark, corridors illuminated by only a few candles set in sconces on the walls so that Cinderella and Eugene cast long shadows as they walked between the darkness and the patches of light that displayed some of the golden threads on the crimson and azure carpets, or the faces of the portraits on the walls staring down at them, or the armour standing sentinel beside the doorways. The sound of their own feet was utterly drowned out by the thumping pounding of the rain upon the roof.

Eugene led her to the master bedroom, lit up by a pair of flickering candles set beside the enormous bed with its purple hangings; scarlet curtains were drawn most of the way to keep the darkness out, with flickers of the dying light of day creeping in through the cracks between the cloth. A dressing table of old black oak sat beside the window, and upon the table itself there crouched a large walnut box with brass inlay that reflected some of the candlelight that reached across the room, and a tiny key set in the lock at the front of the chest.

"Open it," Eugene said. "It's yours."

Cinderella picked up her skirt with one hand as she walked across the tigerskin rug to the dressing table. She did not sit, but bent down a little over the dressing table to try the box which, unlocked already by some other hand, opened to her touch.

She gasped at the glittering sight that met her eyes. It was a jewellery box, and one moreover that was absolutely full to bursting in every miniature compartment that slid out from the main, in every divided compartment, in every inch of space, in every nook and cranny there was some beautiful thing that her gaze could linger on: diamonds, pearls, sapphires, even a few rubies and emeralds and gemstones set in gold and silver. Necklaces, bracelets – she could set at once the diamond bracelet Eugene had given her on the day of their carriage ride, but there were so many others too, ranging from single strands of tiny diamonds upon a chain to enormous stacks of large stones that looked as though they would cover half her forearm if she wore them – rings, earrings, even a couple of tiaras. And they were so beautiful. They glittered, sparkled and shone before her eyes and they were hers and…and she could hardly believe it.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so-"

She stopped as she felt Eugene's arm around her waist, his lips on her shoulder, then on her neck, kissing upwards towards her face. He turned her around so that she was facing him as he kissed on the lips once, twice, then again, making her gasp, making her moan with pleasure when their tongues met and then…and then he started to undo her bodice.

* * *

The rain had stopped, thankfully. There was no sound of water dancing on the roof, not even so much as a pitter-patter; even the clouds had gone, and the moonlight came in through the gaps in the curtains to fall on Cinderella as she slept huddled up beside him, with her arms resting on his chest and her head nestled against him.

Eugene watched her, the way the moonlight fell on her skin she seemed almost inhuman, a fae creature sent to bewitch and enchant him. The gold of her rings, that she had never gotten around to taking off even if she had wanted to, sparkled upon her finger. If she was a fairy temptress, then had bound her to him all the same.

Gently, ever so gently, so as not to disturb her beautiful slumber, Eugene ran one hand through her hair. It felt so soft against his fingertips.

Strange, he mused, how someone so beautiful, so small compared to him, so frail and delicate seeming could hide so many secrets, so many…lies.

No, lie was too harsh a word. Better by far to stick with secrets. Eugene didn't know exactly what she was hiding from him, but he knew that she was hiding something. It was clear in the way that she spoke, or rather the way that she didn't speak, her hesitations and long silences. She was choosing her words carefully, and there were times when there was almost as much weight in what she did not say as in what she said.

Still, he did not blame her for that; he bore her no malice for it. The things she had told him, the things that he believed to be true, were reason enough for her to keep her remaining secrets hidden. Living that way, in that house, he could hardly imagine it…and doing so with the burden of things that would have seemed strange in the most loving and utopian of circumstances, well…

Besides, it wasn't as if he had been absolutely open and honest with her in all details. There were things that he kept from her, kept from the whole world save for Etienne, and he would continue to do so not because he didn't trust Cinderella, not because he wanted to hurt her, but because…because there were some things that he thought it best to keep to himself, just as there were things that Cinderella thought it best to keep to herself and there was nothing he could do about it…except hope that one day she would trust him enough to reveal herself to him…and earn that trust of her, if need be.

He wondered idly if she thought she was actually slipping things past him. She really wasn't all that good at keeping secrets.

And that, in its own way, was a comforting thought.

* * *

Cinderella gripped the folds of her tulle skirt between her forefingers and thumbs, swaying first this way, and then that before the mirror. "What do you think?"

The bodice was white, save for the pink dark pink (so dark, in fact, that it was on the very of becoming maroon) sleeves and neckline that clung to the edges of her shoulders and encircled her body even as they left her arms bare to the wrist-length gloves upon her hands. The skirt, separated from the bodice visually if not in fact by the sash of light pink silk tied into a bow at the back of her waist, was a blush pink colour growing deeper and more pronounced the closer to the ankle-length hem it became, while the fabric itself had a translucent quality, so that it required the two layers of petticoat beneath to prevent Cinderella's legs from being visible to the world. Her slippers where high-heeled, and white, with pretty pink bows atop the toe.

Duchamp pursed her lips together for a moment. "If I may, Your Highness, I do wish you'd let me do something more regal with your hair."

Cinderella's hair fell down loosely to her shoulders, restrained only by a simple white hairband with a little bow on top. She smiled, and chuckled a little as she petted it briefly with one white-gloved hand. "It isn't as if I'm wearing it this way to a ball or a banquet, Duchamp. Besides, I like it this way, and if Eugene minded…I'm sure he'd tell me."

"Very well, ma'am, I shall say no more," Duchamp murmured. "Now, if you'll sit back down then we can discuss your jewellery."

Cinderella frowned ever so slightly. "Do I need to wear any? I'm already wearing my wedding ring." And her engagement ring as well, they both sparkled on her gloved finger when she raised her hand.

"I think, ma'am, that it would look strange if you wore none of it, having received so much," Duchamp said tactfully.

"Yes, I see what you mean," Cinderella murmured, and glided back to the dressing table. Eugene had washed first, and had dressed while Cinderella was washing, and now he had vacated the bedroom while she dressed and was waiting for her in the dining room, where she would join him when she was ready. It seemed a little ridiculous to wear a fortune in jewellery down to breakfast, but then…when Cinderella thought of it that way she realised that exactly the same could be said about a dress like this. But she didn't want to have to get dressed twice, and she wasn't sure what Eugene had in mind for the rest of the day.

She sat down, and gazed into the open jewellery box and all its glittering contents. "How on earth do I choose between all this?"

Duchamp clasped her hands together in front of her. "Why don't we start with the larger question, ma'am, of what kind of gem you'd like today? Diamonds, pearls, sapphires?"

"Do I have to only choose just one of those?" Cinderella asked. "What if just wanted to wear the necklace and bracelet Eugene gave me?"

"Your Highness, His Highness has given you everything you see before you."

"I know, Duchamp, I just meant…" Cinderella hesitated for a moment. _Things were much simpler when I only had one dress to wear._ So many decisions! She had been presented with a stuffed wardrobe and asked to choose a dress. She had been asked whether she wanted to wear heels or flats. She had been asked how she wanted her makeup. Now she was being asked to choose which fabulously beautiful necklace to wear. So many decisions.

 _Oh, yes, I'm so terribly off. Woe is me._ Of course, that was all self-pitying nonsense. She had nothing to complain about, least of all that she had too many luxurious options to choose from when it came to dresses, shoes and jewellery. There were people whose lives had not been rendered simpler in the least by the absence of such things, people who suffered far more than she did.

And that, in truth, was what made the matter of choosing which glittering adornments for her body so hard…because when she had first set eyes upon the glittering contents of this elegant box she had been swept away by the beauty of it all, the beauty that she had always loved to look upon, the way that she had once spent half an hour dawdling in town with her nose pressed against the jewellery shop window admiring everything on display that was beyond her reach until the owner threatened to call the constable on her. It had been so wonderful to see it, to have it, that she could only gasp in delight at the reversal of her fortunes. But now, in the warm light of a lovely day, she could only look down at this king's ransom in jewels and wonder to herself, _how can I possibly deserve this?_

Indeed, how could anyone possibly deserve this? This was no side-effect of her Stepmother's tuition, this was more than that. She said wonder to herself, because she could hardly raise this with Duchamp, but she would speak about it to Eugene this morning; yes, that was for the best.

It might look a little hypocritical to do that while she was wearing some of the items in question but, well, according to Duchamp it could not be helped.

 _Or perhaps I just didn't want to tell her no because I do want all of this, deep down and not so deep._

"I understand what you mean, ma'am," Duchamp said. "I'm sorry, ma'am, it's not my place to…I spoke out of turn, please forgive me."

"Of course," Cinderella replied absently, her mind upon other things.

"Since you know half of what you want quite well," Duchamp continued. "I think…pearls for the neck and ears but diamonds for the wrists, how does that sound?"

 _It sounds wonderful and wrong at the same time,_ Cinderella thought. "That sounds fine, Duchamp, thank you."

Duchamp wove what Cinderella thought of as 'the wedding necklace' of luminous pearls and sparkling sapphire heart around her neck, complimented by a pair of gleaming pearl earrings fastened to her ears. Upon her right arm, Cinderella wore the diamond bracelet that Eugene had given her on that day, when she had accused him of spoiling her rotten (if only she had known then what was to come), and on the left, a slightly larger, slightly heavier bracelet, four rows but larger diamonds; it weighed…strangely, upon Cinderella's arm, this cold loveliness. She had never worn quite like it before, it felt a little like it was dragging at her.

"There you are, ma'am, absolutely splendid," Duchamp said.

"Yes, thank you Duchamp, you chose very well," Cinderella said, smiling into the mirror in spite of her thoughts. She stood up. "And now, I shouldn't keep Eugene waiting any longer…except that I've no idea where he is."

Duchamp smiled. "Don't worry about that, ma'am. Marine!"

The door into the bedroom opened, as a maid stood in the doorway and curtsied. "You called, mademoiselle Duchamp."

"Show Her Highness to the dining room, please Marine," Duchamp said.

"Of course, mademoiselle. If you'll follow me, Your Highness."

"Of course," Cinderella murmured, as she followed Marine down two long corridors and a flight of stairs of a palace that, though it had seemed so grim and forbidding in the dark, was in the morning sunshine so much brighter and more airy than the main palace that Cinderella could hardly believe it. Light fell in through windows more than twice as high as she was tall, illuminating every mote of dust falling to the floor, every strand on the scarlet-and-gold carpet and displaying the hint of blue within the diamonds on her ring and bracelets. She followed Marine until they stood before an oak-panelled door with a brass handle.

"Here, we are, Your Highness," Marine murmured.

"Yes," Cinderella said. "Here we are." She stood in front of the doorway, making no effort to go in, fussing with the diamond bracelets on her wrists for an inordinately long amount of time until she realised that Marine had not only noticed the delay, but was staring at her.

The maid looked down at her feet. "Begging your pardon, Your Highness."

"It's alright," Cinderella replied. "I was just…I suppose I'm a little nervous." She gave the sapphire heart in the centre of her necklace a quick tug, to get it into just the right position. "Thank you, Marine, I would have been hopelessly lost without you."

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Cinderella reached out, grasped the brass handle, and opened the door into the dining room. Her tulle skirt rose and fell in airy and graceful rhythm with the movement of her legs as she walked in.

Eugene was seated at the head of the table in a red velvet jacket and an ivory cravat, reading the newspaper, but no sooner had she walked in through the doorway then he rose to his feet. "Cinderella. Now you are a sight worth waiting for."

Cinderella felt her cheeks heating up a little, she bowed her head and looked down at the airy tulle skirt and silk petticoats obscuring her feet and her legs from view, at the white gloves on her hands where they were clasped together in front of her, at the diamonds sparkling on her arms that she did not know if she should ever wear.

She felt him kiss her on the forehead before he put his fingers underneath her chin and tilted it up so that she was looking at him. "Is something wrong?"

Cinderella nodded. "I need to ask you something."

"Of course. Why don't you sit down?" he said, ushering her to a chair beside his own. Ever the gentleman, he pulled her chair out for her, and then pushed it back in once she had sat down. He gave her a peck on the cheek, and then moved his own chair closer to her, so that he could easily reach out and rest his hand upon her arm. "Is something troubling you?"

"I…yes," Cinderella admitted. "These diamonds, the jewellery that you gave me-"

"It isn't quite right to say that I gave you that, except in the sense that you got it through our marriage," Eugene said. "It isn't a lover's gift, much as you deserve one. You are a princess now, the only woman in our family, the family jewels belong to you now. There is more back at the palace if I didn't choose the right pieces."

"There's more?" Cinderella gasped. "I could never…it really doesn't matter, or it does but…what I'm trying to say, what I wanted to talk to you about was, how can I have all this?"

"I told you-"

"I know that I'm your wife, and that makes me a princess now, but still," Cinderella said. "How can I possibly deserve so much when others have so little?"

Eugene's expression seemed at once to be both bemused and puzzled in equal measure. "I see," he said. "And I suppose that you would like an answer that is a little deeper or more sophisticated than 'that is the way things are' or something like that."

 _What I want is an answer that will let me wear these beautiful things I've craved for so long without feeling guilt gnawing at my stomach all the while,_ Cinderella thought. She simply nodded though, because she wanted an honest answer out of him, not one that he thought would please her.

Eugene looked into her eyes, and squeezed her arm tenderly. "Cinderella...we deserve to have these things because our ancestors earned them. Privilege is the birthright of nobility."

"I wasn't-"

"No, you weren't born to the purple, that's true of course," Eugene said. "But you were gently born for all the efforts of your stepfamily to deny it, and you are royally married what is more and it is my privilege as a husband to share with you the princely privileges that I have that are my birthright from my noble line. Do you understand?"

Cinderella shook her head. "Not really," she confessed, feeling rather stupid as she said it. "I mean...everyone has ancestors,"

"But ours were bolder and did greater things than those whose scions populate the streets and tend the looms and work the fields with plough and scythe," Eugene declared. "My ancestors raised this country up from out of nothing, protected its people, raised it to prosperity and ruled it well and for all these things we are entitled to the rich rewards that are due for a job well done. Think of it like this: if a man goes out to work he is entitled to be paid for the work that he has done; if he has a more difficult or demanding job than his neighbour then he is entitled to be paid more than his neighbour recieves. Now suppose that this hypothetical man takes home more money than he strictly needs to survive, and so he saves the excess and when he has saved enough he goes out and buys a necklace as a gift for his wife; who are you then to barge into his parlour and demand that he give the money to the poor instead? Who are you or I to say that he cannot pass the fruits of his labours on to his children?

"It is true that we of noble blood, even more so we who are royal, live our lives cushioned by vast privileges," he continued. "Palaces, lands, rents, a comfortable or even lavish civil list. But our responsibilities are just as great, we are the leaders of the land, the shepherds of the people, expected to take the lead in war, in politics. Our ancestors fought and bled to win these comfortable things and to pass them safely on to us and, if need be, we will fight and bleed to pass them on to our children."

Cinderella placed her hand lightly on top of his. "I understand, or at least I would if you were talking about one necklace like your hypothetical man...or even several. But the sheer ridiculous amount that we're speaking of...I could wear this many pieces each day and still not come to the end of all the baubles that are mine now by the time a year had gone by; doesn't that strike you as too much, much too much when Angelique has no shoes and Jean's stomach is empty?"

"Don't you want them?" Eugene asked.

"Do I want them? Of course I want them!" Cinderella exclaimed. "I want them so badly that I'm giving you a chance to convince me that I should keep all of them, all the beautiful rings and dazzling bracelets and lovely necklaces even though I know that if I was even half as kind as I've always liked to think I was then I...I would not keep them for another minute."

Eugene chuckled. "If you were not so tender-hearted you wouldn't care at all about such things, you'd simply take the gems and wear them proudly."

Cinderella said. "It can't be much better to be ineffectually well-meaning."

Eugene reversed his hand, so that he could hold hers in his palm. "Cinderella, even if you sold all the jewels in your jewellery box, all those in the royal vault including the crown jewels, even if you sold all your dresses and your shoes and dressed in rags as you once did there would still be poor in Armorique. A few fewer, perhaps, but only so long as the proceeds of the sales lasted. All that you would accomplish is to make yourself poor and powerless with them. You want to help, I understand that; but you cannot lead by example in this, no one will follow you and it wouldn't really help if you did. A princess has great influence, a voice that will be heard...but only if she looks the part. A princess in rags will not be taken seriously by anyone."

"So you're telling me that I should keep my jewels and luxuries because it will help people?" Cinderella said, a tad sceptically.

"No, I'm saying there are a hundred or more good reasons for you to keep them and no good reasons not to," Eugene replied. "Have I hit on one that convinces you yet?"

Cinderella looked down, at the diamonds glistening on her forearm. They sparkled so brightly. They looked so beautiful. They captivated her, so much so that it took a deliberate effort to look away. "I...I...I think you might have, whatever that says about me." She looked into his eyes. "So if not by sacrifice, how can I help?"

* * *

 _Author's Note: The main reason this chapter stops so suddenly is because my idea for how to continue involves a quick cut that will work better as the start of a new chapter than the continuation of this one. We will get the end of that conversation, however, as Cinderella works out just what kind of a princess she wants to be and how she can use her position to achieve her goals. That next chapter should be out fairly quickly._

 _Writing a defence of class privilege from the perspective of someone who is actually benefiting from it is very difficult, as you might imagine. If, say, Jean was asked to justify the luxuries that Cinderella and Eugene enjoy then I could put any amount of starry-eyed, deferential romanticism into his mouth (up until Angelique shut him up with a cutting remark, anyway) and you would probably believe that he believed it, but with Eugene, I have to be more careful because it would be very easy for him to sound self-serving about his easy life. Hopefully I didn't do too badly._

 _I very seriously writing a sex scene for this chapter, but the fact is that I've never written one before and I didn't want to ruin what I personally consider one of my best fanfics by shoving a bad lemon in the middle of it. Plus I think the rating is too low for that kind of thing._

 _I said in the last chapter that Cinderella's realisation that a lot of her insecurity was the result of her abusive upbringing would not magically overcome said insecurity, and hopefully I hit the balance of that reasonably well, and the same with her somewhat defence of her stepfamily._

 _I remain very grateful to the two regular reviewers, Darkmaster of the Arts and Thoughts-of-Joy-Dreams-of-Love for their comments, which help me know if I'm keeping everything on the rails and continuing to hold their interest._


	11. All to Myself

All To Myself

"You're not eating very much, Cinderella," Eugene said. "Are you feeling alright?"

Cinderella smiled, as she nibbled on one edge of a pain au raisin. She had taken off her gloves – they sat neatly a short distance from her plate at the table – and she could feel the warm pastry cracking under fingertips. "I'm fine, I'm just not very hungry," she said, because it was better than saying _I'm afraid to eat too much because I'm terrified of what might happen if I put on weight, whether I ought to be or not._

She took another bite out of the warm, soft pastry, feeling the raisin as it was squashed between her teeth. "You never answered my question. What I ought to do to help the poor, if I wanted to."

She glanced at him, waiting for his reply.

He took his time, chewing on a grape. "I thought you'd already made up your mind."

"I have one idea," Cinderella replied. "But I…I'm not sure if it's enough. I mean, it will make food cheaper…but what about those who have no money at all?"

Eugene stared at her. "You can't solve everyone's problems, Cinderella."

Cinderella laughed. "Says the man who solved all of mine, in a single day, with just few words."

Eugene smiled. "I wish, how I wish that that were true." He reached out, and took her hand. "Even though we both know that it isn't."

Cinderella glanced away. _How much does he realise?_ "I…that isn't the point. The point is that I've been so fortunate and I…I can't turn my back on those who are less so than I am now. Except…except I don't know how to help them."

"I doubt I'm the best person to give you any helpful advice whatsoever," Eugene admitted. "I confess, I haven't ever really taken an interest in philanthropy of any kind, although I know of those who have. When we get back home I can put you in touch with them, if you like; they can probably give you better advice than I can. Although…I wouldn't want you to get your hopes up too high as to what you can achieve."

"What do you mean?" Cinderella asked.

"I mean that you – that I, for that matter – have influence, but no actual power," Eugene said. "Not even my father's power is absolute. If you want to get things done, if you want to change things, then you'll need to persuade people to change them, rather than simply ordering them to do it. That being the case it would probably be best if you set your sights on things that people will be willing to consent to. A slight tax rise rather than property confiscations, for example."

"I was never going to suggest stealing from people!"

"I know, it was just a hypothetical example," Eugene replied. "My point is that whatever you want to do to help the have-nots you'll need to convince the haves that it's a good idea first, or at least a tolerable one. That's why, if I were you, I'd probably concentrate on corn first before starting down any other reform roads at the same time."

Cinderella leaned back on her chair as her eyebrows rose. "Why? Don't you think I can be persuasive enough for two causes at once?"

"I think you've already promised the people that you're going to help them get cheaper bread, and certain newspapers haven't been shy of playing that up," Eugene said. "If they think that you're betraying them for…"

Cinderella frowned at his hesitation. "What is it?"

"As you've pointed out, the benefits of cheaper food will fall mainly on working men and their families," Eugene said. "If they…how can I put this delicately…if they think that you're abandoning them to focus your attentions on scroungers like Jean Taurillion and his ilk they will not be happy."

"Scroungers!" Cinderella gasped. "But that's so unfair! I mean-"

"I know that, but in these matters the truth isn't half so important as perception," Eugene said softly. "And perception is not kind to those without work."

Cinderella bowed her head. "So what you're saying is-"

"Why do those mice follow you?"

Cinderella blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Your mice," Eugene repeated. "The ones that you can hear but I can't. Why do they serve you?"

"They're not my servants," Cinderella said. "They're my friends."

Eugene waved away the distinction. "You say that they are loyal, that they've been with you for years, and that they've helped you. How did that come about?"

Cinderella smiled fondly as she remembered. As she spoke, she folded her hands together in her lap, resting them between her knees. "Jaq was the first of them. He'd wandered in from the rain and got stuck in a trap, poor thing. He was so wet, shivering in the cold, he looked so forlorn that I just had to let him out, I couldn't just leave him there. When he said thank you…I couldn't believe it, I thought that I was going mad from…but he kept talking, and I kept understanding, and he understood me too and then…even after the rain stopped, even after I'd fed him up a little…he just stayed. I thought that maybe he was staying for the food but…after Lucifer nearly caught him I asked him why he hadn't left, gone somewhere else."

"What did he say?" Eugene murmured.

Cinderella blinked as she looked up into his eyes. "He said…he said he'd never leave a friend all alone, abandoned like that." He wiped at the corner of one eye. "I'm not sure if you can understand how much I needed to hear someone say that, then. I…I was so…" She closed her eyes for a moment, and turned her thoughts away from just how low she had been feeling at that point, before Jaq came into her life. "It was easier with the others, Jaq was there to explain things to them, and they…they just came in, one or two at a time, lost and in need. They didn't all stay…but most of them did."

"You won their loyalty, with your kindness," Eugene said. "And that's what you need to do here, as well."

Cinderella frowned. "I need to treat people like mice?"

Eugene chuckled. "If it helps you to think of them like that, although I wouldn't say so out loud. The point is, if you do a kindness for the working people, something that helps them, you will win their gratitude and they will support you in helping those that are even more in need. Things will go much easier with their numbers on your side."

"And if I don't then no one will support me, is that it?"

"I'm saying that…that is the worst case, yes," Eugene said.

Cinderella sighed. "Then I don't have much choice, do I?"

"It's not all doom and gloom," Eugene declared. "You'll still be helping someone."

"Yes, yes, you're right, of course you're right," Cinderella said. "I should be grateful for that, shouldn't I?"

Eugene nodded. He watched as Cinderella took another small bite out of a pastry. "So, is there anything that you would like to do today?"

"I…" Cinderella hesitated. She didn't really want to say that she was so unused to having time to herself that she wasn't sure what to do – she had been hard pressed to find things to occupy her during the few days before the wedding – for fear that it would make her seem boring; and yet on the other hand…she really couldn't think of anything to say and so…oh what was she to do? "I…I'm not really sure."

Eugene smiled. "How about I show you around the palace and the grounds, and then we'll see."

"Oh, that sounds lovely," Cinderella said.

"Well, whenever you're ready, darling."

Cinderella picked up a napkin and dabbed at one corner of her mouth. "I'm ready now."

He frowned. "You hardly seem to have eaten anything at all."

"I told you I wasn't very hungry," Cinderella replied lightly. She took off her rings – laying them down upon the white tablecloth – as she pulled her gloves on over her hands. "Unless you're not finished yet."

"No, I'm ready if you're sure that you are," Eugene said. He got up from the table, and offered her his hand. "Shall we?"

Cinderella smiled, and placed her hand in his. "By all means, lead the way."

Eugene led her through the Summer Palace, beneath the portraits that seemed far less disapproving in the light of day – some of them even seemed to be looking warmly down upon her, with something approaching fondness – and the ancient ornaments, the glimmering armour that someone must have been up before sunrise polishing, and of course the enormous windows that let in so much sunlight on a clear day like today that the whole house was lent a kind of golden glow of warmth and happiness. And then he led her out into the grounds and gardens; the weather had cleared up, the ground had dried out, and so they wandered through rows of ornamental bushes clipped and carved in the likenesses – so Eugene explained to Cinderella, who had to admit that she didn't recognise any of them – of various famous romances, a theme appropriate for a place most often used for honeymoons. He led her past the rosebushes, and the fountain and the flowerbeds, and as he showed her all this loveliness he did not once let go of her hand, but held onto her as though he were afraid that, were he once to let her go, she would carried away by some invisible force of fate and placed forevermore beyond his further reach.

As she walked with him, sometimes having to walk briskly to keep up with his longer stride, Cinderella felt glad that he wouldn't let her go because the truth was that she, irrational, though it was, feared the same thing.

And besides, the feel of his hand enfolding hers, the warmth of his touch it was just so…why would she ever want that to stop?

They sat down for a moment, hard by a bush blooming with red roses, between two hedges cut in the images of Hero and Leander, and paused for a moment as the fountain trickled and burbled behind them.

"Do you like it?" Eugene asked as he put his arms around her, his hands resting upon her hands, his thumbs touching the diamonds clasped about her arms.

"Oh, I think it's lovely," Cinderella murmured, as she leaned back against him and closed her eyes. "I don't understand why you don't live here all the time, it's so wonderful."

"The palace is nothing to sneeze at," Eugene replied. "Although…it's mainly the location I think, this place is too out of the way for permanent residence."

Cinderella nodded. "Have you come here often?"

"Once, when I was young," Eugene said. "I think I was bored."

Cinderella chuckled. "And now?"

"Now?" Eugene asked. He kissed her on the side of the temple. "Now I'm with you."

A bird, Cinderella could not tell what kind it was by its voice, and when she opened her eyes she couldn't see it, began to sing from one of the trees nearby. Its high pitched but sweet warbling call echoed out across the clear blue sky. It was joined by another call, and then another after that, a chorus of songbirds singing out in a rich symphony towards the sun.

"Do you know what they're saying?" Eugene asked.

Cinderella twisted her body a little so that she could look at him. "They're telling me how lucky I am to have such a handsome man to call my own."

Eugene's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

Cinderella smiled. "You'll just have to trust me, won't you?"

"I'd like to trust you," Eugene said. "But I'm not sure I could believe that they would sing my praises and say nothing whatsoever about my good fortune in having an angel on my lap. Are you sure you're not just being modest?"

Cinderella giggled. "As a matter of fact they're not talking about you or I, but thank you for spoiling it."

"I shall be more receptive to compliments in future, I promise," Eugene said lightly. "What are they really saying?"

"They're singing to each other," Cinderella said, as she looked away from him and towards the trees from whence she thought the singing was coming. "The gentlemen are imploring the ladies and the ladies are testing their devotion. It's very nice, but it's nothing to do with us."

Eugene wrapped his arms around her waist. "So…do you hear the words that they're saying? You can't hear what I hear at all?"

Cinderella shuffled around so that she could look at him more easily. "It…honestly, it depends."

"On what?"

"I honestly don't know," Cinderella admitted. "With the mice – with Jaq and Gus and the rest, anyway, then it's as you say. You hear them squeaking, or what have you, but I hear them speaking to me…they don't always speak well, bless them, but they are speaking. But with the birds, or with Bruno or some other animals…I hear what you hear, or I think I do, I hear them chirping or barking or, well, singing…but I can understand them anyway. I know what they mean, I…I'm afraid I can't explain it any better than that. And then there are some that I don't understand at all, or no more than anyone can."

Eugene nodded. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask: why did you give them clothes?"

Cinderella laughed. "That. I…I think that was more for me than it was for them, to be honest. I…thought that if I dressed them up, if I made them look more like people than mice…then it wouldn't seem so strange, somehow." She smiled. "Of course, it just makes it seem even stranger, doesn't it?"

"Don't worry," he said, as he leaned forward to kiss her on the nose. "I'm quite alright with a little strangeness."

She smiled, and closed her eyes, and leaned her head upon his chest and rested it there for a moment…until she felt him putting something in her hair, his fingers weaving something into her locks and threading it through her hairband.

"What is it?" she asked.

Eugene smiled bashfully. "I'm afraid I forgot to bring a mirror again."

She got up – careful not to step on him with her high-heeled slippers – and made her way down the path to where the fountain burbled invitingly, and so much more safely than the river that she had last used as an impromptu mirror in these circumstances. Looking out over the crystal water she could see, in spite of the ripples from the motion of the fountain, that Eugene had woven a single red rose through her strawberry hair, just above her ear. A thornless rose, or doubtless she would have been much more aware of its presence than she was.

Cinderella, and turned back to thank Eugene only to find that he had produced a dark flute from out of his coat and was holding it to his lips.

Cinderella rested her gloved hands upon the stonework of the fountain. "You play?"

A few quick notes of the flute gave her the answer. Cinderella sat back on the edge of the fountain – making sure that the tails of the bow of her pink sash didn't go in the water – as Eugene rose to his feet and began to play, a high, skipping tune where the notes seemed to almost bounce to the height of the scale and then descend back down to the bottom, or just halfway there, and start again, skipping up and falling down, so light, so swift, so deftly done that Cinderella had to give up on trying to follow the movement of Eugene's fingers and simply concentrated on the lovely music as the notes skipped up in steps and then swept gracefully down again.

She could only applaud when he was finished. "That was wonderful! You didn't tell me you could play."

Eugene shrugged. "It loses a little without the other instruments but…yes, it's the one I'm most proud of."

"The one that…" Cinderella's eyes widened a little. "Did you write that?"

"I dabble at it," Eugene said modestly. "Would you care to hear another? A march?"

"Oh, no, not a march," Cinderella replied. She stood up and stepped away from the fountain. "Play something to dance to."

Eugene's eyes seemed to twinkle. "As you wish." He placed the flute against his lips again and soon the garden was filled with such graceful music, darting here and there like an overly-energetic puppy gambolling through a meadow without a care in the world.

A smile spread across Cinderella's face as she began to twirl, and whirl, and stamp her feet and spread her arms as her hair whipped about her face and the jewels upon her fingers and her arms sparkled in the sunlight as she danced for her prince and he played for her.

Was this not happiness? She thought so, and she prayed that it would never go away.

 _Author's Note: I found out fairly recently that Frederick the Great, greatest warrior king in the history of Prussia and maybe even Europe, was also an excellent flautist (there's a painting of him playing alongside Bach on the harpsichord) and composer (listen to the allegro of his Concerto for Flute in C Major to get a feel for what I was trying to describe when it comes to Eugene's first piece), and that was basically what inspired this bit at the end. The earlier piece was, of course, a continuation of the last chapter._

 _The next chapter will be, I think, the first one in this story to have no Cinderella herself in it as we take a brief look at the palace in their absence, and then back to lovers after that._


	12. Settling In

Settling In

Angelique looked hideous.

This dress she had been forced into made her look like a wedding cake! It had layers! She could barely run, she could barely walk without tripping over herself, it was a wonder that the ladies of court could stand it.

And the way that her hair had been put in curls felt strange and unnatural.

If this was what it meant to be a lady then ladies could keep it, and their dresses and their manners and their shoes that pinched her feet. She didn't want any of them.

That was why she had escaped from Prudence and gone looking for Jean. He had to be suffering as much as she was. He'd understand what she was going through. They could commiserate together, if only she could find him.

Where was he, anyway? She'd been told his room was somewhere here in the lower depths of the palace - well, not depths precisely, but it was definitely not the high spires where the quality made their nests, down here there were actual shadows and everything - but she had been searching red-carpeted halls for a little while now and- aha! A noise! A noise coming from three doors down, where the door was ajar and light was shining out onto the crimson. There was no other sound, so if Jean was around here that was where he would be.

Angelique nearly tripped over her own dress as she started toward the open doorway. How did people manage in these appalling things?

Walking more slowly this time, Angelique made her way to the doorway where, peering inside, she found Jean...bouncing up and down on his bed like a six year old.

Her relief at finding him could not quite overcome the mingled amusement and exasperation she felt at seeing this, and so sh stepped into the room and asked him, "How old are you?"

Jean rose to his feet at once. "Angelique!" He stared at her, in her awful dress with her awful hair. "You...you look-"

"Terrible?"

"I was going to say lovely," Jean murmured.

Angelique's mouth hung open briefly, and she felt a strange heat rising to her cheeks. "Liar."

Jean smiled. "When have I ever lied to you, Angelique?"

Angelique found that she was playing with the folds of her dress that didn't seem quite so bad all of a sudden and forced herself to stop it. "Yes...well...don't expect to see this too often. Although..." Angelique looked away. "You don't look so bad yourself."

That was something of an understatement. Jean was wearing a blue coat with scarlet facings collar and cuffs, not to mention the gold braid twining its way around his wrists. His jacket was open, revealing a frilly white shirt underneath, while his white trousers were obscured up to the knees by high black boots. He looked...very dashing.

If only she hadn't caught him acting so childishly just a moment ago.

"What were you doing, precisely?" Angelique demanded, desperate to regain the initiative.

Jean smiled like a newly adopted puppy. "This is my bed! I haven't had my own bed in...I've never had my own bed! Feel how soft and springy it is."

"I'll take your word for it," Angelique said amusedly. "You're...you're loving this, aren't you?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Jean asked. "Look at this room: I can spread my arms out across it. I've got somewhere to hang up my sword - I've got a sword! An actual sword! - I've even got bookshelves."

"Nearly empty bookshelves," Angelique remarked as she gestured at the three rather lonely looking books on Jean's top shelf: the Bible, the prayer book and the Pilgrim's Progress.

"I'll get more, eventually," Jean said, only a touch defensively. "What about you, Angelique? What's your room like?"

"Higher than yours," Angelique replied, though thatbwas a bit of an understatement to say so. "Apparently I have I have to be close by the princess' rooms in case she needs me for anything."

"That sounds nice."

"It's alright, I suppose."

Jean frowned. "What's wrong?"

Angelique looked down at the ground. "I'm not sure I'm cut out for this. Learning how to walk, how to speak...is this really me?"

Jean's frown deepened. "What are you saying...you can't want to go back onto the street?"

"No! God, no," Angelique cried. She coughed. "I just...I wish I didn't like they were trying to make me someone else."

"They?"

"Madame Prudence," Angelique said. "She's trying to turn me into a lady before the prince and princess return."

"Mademoiselle Bonnet!"

"That's her now," Angelique sighed. "And I thought I'd gotten away."

She felt Jean's comforting hands upon her arms. "You are the cleverest, the strongest, and the best person that I know. And you saved the life of the princess. You did that, as you are."

"We did that."

"I helped a little," Jean said. "But...don't let them make you think less of youself, alright? Promise me you won't do that?"

Angelique smiled. "Never." She flung her arms around his neck and tugged him close. "Thank you."

"For what?" Jean asked. "I have to go soon, I have my duties. Are you going to be alright?"

"Yes." Angelique nodded. "Yes, I think I will, now."

As she left Jean behind and strode out the door, she was ready for Madame Prudence to do her worst.

* * *

The days when prisoners were held in dungeons in the same castle as the monarchs they had conspired against were long gone and out of fashion by now, and prisoners accused of treason and the like were now held in the Gatehouse, an old fortress that - as the name suggested - had been the gatehouse back when the city still had a defensive wall. It was not a comfortable place to be housed, for certain: the upper levels were crumbling, the lower levels were dark and damp and Etienne had to carefully watch his step as he descended the stairs to make sure he didn't slip and break his neck on the way down.

He could hear the drip, drip, drip of water falling to the floor somewhere nearby, and there was a smell of some kind rising insidiously up his nose.

Only the knowledge that the prisoners here had brought their fate upon themselves stopped him from being appalled by the place.

He reached the bottom of the steps and returned the salute of the guard who sat nearby, minding the cells. He walked down the dark, shadowy corridor until he came to the last cell, where the would-be assassin waited behind a barred door with his hands and legs in manacles.

Etienne studied him in silence for a moment, this man who had tried to kill his friend. A vile-looking specimen of humanity, with a wild and tangled black beard and shifty eyes sunk into his face. A wretch, but also their only lead.

"My name is Colonel Etienne Gerard," Etienne declared. "I am here to ask you some questions."

The prisoner did not speak nor stir; he acted as though he were not aware of Etienne's presence at all. He just stared at the wall, as he had been doing when Etienne arrived.

"What is your name?" Etienne demanded.

Silence.

"Why did you try and kill His Highness?"

Silence.

"Who hired you?"

Silence.

Etienne scowled. "If you keep this up you will be hanged for treason. You were caught in the act, there is no question of your guilt or of the sentence...but if you tell me why you did it, for what cause or paymaster, if you name your fellow conspirators then I give you my word that your sentence will be commuted to transportation to Louisiana. Would you like to go to Louisiana? They say that in the new world you can be a new man." He had often dreamed idly of shipping Lucien off to the colonies to make something of himself, but his mother would die from worrying about him.

The man did not answer. He might have been deaf for all the response he was giving Etienne.

Etienne scowled. "You loyalty is commendable. I hope that those who have left you to rot in here are worthy of your loyalty." He had little doubt that such a parting shot would do any good, but it was the bet he could do as he turned to go. With luck, that niggle of doubt might grow into something larger in the fullness of time.

When he reached the top the stairs he found the new boy, Jean Taurillion, waiting right where Etienne had left him. The boy's uniform was new, and obviously so. It practically shone in this tawdry place; it did not belong here, it was too clean, too fresh...best get the boy out before he became corrupted.

"Did he say anything, sir?" Jean asked as Etienne began to leave the Gatehouse.

"Nothing," Etienne replied. "Not a thing."

"Oh," Jean said despondently. "I could have another word with him, sir, if you like."

It took Etienne a moment to work out what the boy was suggesting. "I don't think your patron, the princess, would like you doing that, somehow. Or me allowing it, for that matter. Besides, we're not barbarians here."

"Sorry, Colonel," Jean said. "I just...I just want to find out the truth."

"That's what we all want," Etienne said. "But even if he didn't speak that man in there told me something."

Jean was struggling to keep up with Etienne's stride. "What, sir?"

"He's not a hireling," Etienne said. "Even if you could pay someone to take job like this, you couldn't buy their silence now. We're looking at loyalty beyond price. He's either a fanatic who believes in his cause or..."

"Or what, sir?"

"Or he serves a master who inspires devotion," Etienne said. "Or fear."

Jean nodded, though his face showed a lack of complete comprehension. "But...how does that help us, sir?"

"It narrows the list considerably," Etienne explained. "Not many fanatics in this country, fewer who'd go so far as violence, but…they aren't non-existent. That young man trying to start a riot the other day, we'll go and see him."

"Yes, sir. And anyone else?"

They were outside of the Gatehouse now, and Etienne blinked in the sunlight that deluged the world beyond the shadow of that ancient fortress. "Suppose the target were not the prince, but the princess?"

"I always thought that, sir."

Etienne's eyebrows rose. "Indeed? And why is that?"

Jean hesitated. "I suppose I liked the idea of saving the princess."

Etienne snorted. "I see. Be that as it may, who might stand to gain from her death?"

"No one, sir, the realm would be poorer without her."

Etienne stared at him.

Jean blinked. "Is something wrong, Colonel?"

"I'm trying to decide if you're a sycophant or sincere," Etienne muttered.

Jean puffed out his chest a little, like an angry bird. "Please, sir, I am always sincere."

"Are you?" Etienne murmured. _I suppose he's given me no reason to doubt that so far._ "If so...it will be good for the princess to have a loyal supporter in the palace."

Jean looked confused and alarmed. "Surely the whole country is united in their devotion to her highness?"

"I don't know where you're getting these ideas from but you won't get far in the Guard if you can't observe better than that," Etienne replied drolly. "The crowd loves her, for now, because they think they can get something out of her. But she has no firm friends, no party...just one man who thinks she's special. Meanwhile I fear that there are many who would like to see her fall, and until she delivers a child her osition is precarious."

Jean chewed on his lip. "And...and what about you, sir? Are you not her friend?"

"I..." Etienne hesitated. "I no longer think so poorly of her as I did. I mistook ignorance for stupidity and I was wrong in that. But I still think she's an appalling judge of character."

"Why?"

"Because she seems to honestly consider my brother Lucien a friend; and if you ever meet him you will understand what a folly that is."

Jean's brow furrowed. "But, sir, if there are so many who-"

"Most of those who dislike the princess - those who would hope for another chance of a royal marriage if she were to perish - don't have loyal assassins they can call on," Etienne replied. "In fact, at the moment I can think of only one."

They found Monsieur Marius handing in the market square, handing out pamphlets under the shade of – ironically enough – a statue of His Majesty the King. At the approach of Jean and Colonel Gerard he turned, and started to offer them a pamphlet before he recognised their uniforms, or perhaps realised what they portended.

"Gentlemen," he murmured, with cold courtesy. "May I ask why I deserve the honour of this visit?"

Jean glanced away, conscious of the people watching the two of them. Perhaps they thought they were here to arrest Marius. He might deserve it, but judging by the hostile looks on their faces Jean couldn't see it being very popular with the crowd. Those people watching – labourers in dusty overalls, women in shawls and homespun dresses, shopkeepers and bar-maids – were watching him and the colonel with suspicion that verged upon hostility.

 _Perhaps we should have brought some more men with us._

If Colonel Gerard had noticed this he gave no sign of it. His attentions were solely focussed upon Monsieur Marius. "Not spreading anything too treasonous I hope, monsieur."

Marius scowled. "Is it treasonous to ask people to consider whether it is their eternal fate to labour in miserable poverty, to have so little while others have so much? Is it treasonous to tell them that there might perhaps be a better way?"

 _Who paid for your fancy coat?_ Jean felt like asking, though he had just enough self control to keep his mouth shut. It was a nice coat though, a sort of light maroon colour, and well made too. A nice coat and nice trousers and nice boots. He hadn't owned anything that nice until he'd saved the princess and gotten a room in the palace. Only now could he say that his coat was as nice as Monsieur Marius', and even then his coat might be nicer.

How someone dressed as well as that could talk about the poor and a better way and all that was beyond his wit to comprehend.

But then, he supposed that Princess Cinderella was the people's friend as well.

But it suited her much better, in his opinion.

"It's treasonous if you're better way involves bloodshed," Colonel Gerard replied mildly. "Although if you were to rid me of one or two of my family creditors I wouldn't be too upset."

Someone laughed in the crowd, and Jean realised that Colonel Gerard had been aware of their presence, even if he had not acknowledged them.

Marius' smile was so slight that Jean almost missed it. "Are you here to arrest me, Colonel? Because if not I fear I have little time to waste on one of the royal hunting hounds."

That raise a few jeers from the audience, but Colonel Gerard affected to seem unaffected by them. "I take it that you haven't been so busy as to miss the news that someone tried to turn the royal wedding into a tragedy."

"I'm aware," Marius said sharply. "The whole city is aware, the whole country is aware; the newspapers talked of little else. If it was not the wedding itself, it was the shooting."

"You don't approve, I take it?"

"One would hope they would find some space for something other than the pseudo-sufferings of the very richest."

"A lady almost died," Jean snapped. "That isn't suffering?"

The look Marius gave him was one of abject contempt. "Women die every day, in poverty, in hunger; that never makes the papers. I'd say it was because they aren't pretty enough, but some of them are. So it can only be that they aren't rich enough, well born enough. Not good enough."

"Is that why you decided to try and kill His Highness?" Colonel Gerard asked. "Or Her Highness?"

Marius' eyes widened. He laughed. "You think that I arranged the shooting?"

"I'm asking if you know who did," Colonel Gerard replied. "Someone would have to hate the royal family a great deal to attempt such a thing."

"I don't hate the royal family," Marius replied sharply. "No one hates the royal family."

"You did a good job of seeming like you did when you led a mob to the palace gates."

"That wasn't a mob, that was a demonstration," Marius snapped. "You were the ones who levelled your weapons."

Colonel Gerard didn't respond to that. "If you knew anyone who was mad enough to attempt this…would you tell me?"

"Yes," Marius said at once. "I am not a violent man, colonel, and I do not speak to savages or barbarians. I do not dream of cutting off heads, no one does. Contrary to the deranged fantasies of men like you, we don't want to see society overturned. We merely want a more comfortable place within it."

"Modern society is still in its infancy," Colonel Gerard said. "But already it is more prosperous than this country has ever been before."

"Your society, perhaps," Marius replied. "But not ours."

"But you wouldn't kill to change that?"

"No!" Marius declared. "These are respectable people, colonel, all they want is to be treated with respect. If it comes to unpleasantness that will be the fault of those who refused to compromise, not those who politely asked for a little change."

Colonel Gerard said nothing for a moment. He just stared at Monsieur Marius. Then he nodded. "I'll try and bear that in mind. Thank you for your time, Monsieur, good day." The crowd made way for him as he began to walk away.

Jean had to jog just a little to keep up. "Do you believe him, sir?"

"I think so," Colonel Gerard said. "He didn't seem to be lying…our other suspect, on the other hand…keep quiet, leave this to me, and watch very carefully. We are about to enter a nest of vipers."

"Why, sir, where are we going?"

"We are about to call," Colonel Gerard said. "Upon the princess of Normandie."

* * *

Princess Frederica Eugenie de la Fontaine of Normandie sighed heavily as she put down the letter that she had just received from her dear father's messenger.

It was in code, of course – Frederica had wondered once what it would be like to have a father who wrote letters to her in which the pleasantries and expressions of affections were just that, rather than merely tools to conceal his true message – and it was the coded message, rather than the outward banalities that were on display to the untrained eye, that made her sigh so as she cast the letter down upon her dressing table.

"I knew that my father was a cruel man, but I didn't think he was mad until now," she muttered.

"Princess?" Anton murmured from his place by the door, standing straight-backed and upright like a statue, awaiting her instructions.

"He commands me to see that our involvement in this disastrous botch-up does not come out, as I thought he would," Frederica said. "So, I am glad to say that we will be enjoying the delights of Armorique's fair capital for a little while longer."

"Very good, ma'am," Anton said, and he even managed to sound slightly pleased for her. "But, if I may ask-"

"That isn't all of it," Frederica said. "He also…he also…my father commands that I must finish the job that Auguste failed to carry out."

Anton blinked. He was silent for a moment. "Your Highness' means to say that…"

"That I am commanded by my father to accomplish by some means the death of Princess Cinderella," Frederica said softly. "She must still pay for her insult to Normandie. Her insult to me. God help us."

Anton's expression was unreadable. "What will you do?"

Frederica leaned back her head so that was staring up at the white ceiling, decorated with a pattern of swirling golden leaves. "Are you my man, Anton? Do you serve me, and not my father?"

"Your Highness," Anton murmured. "I have known you since you were a little girl. I remember when you would come crying to me because you had scraped your knee."

Frederica chuckled. "I did have a very loud voice for wailing then, didn't I?"

Anton smiled. "Perhaps, princess, but also a voice for laughter. I remember…I am your man, Your Highness. Do not doubt it."

Frederica closed her eyes. "Thank you, Anton, thank you…I don't think I could do this without you."

"I am grateful for your confidence, princess, but…do what?"

"Not kill Princess Cinderella, for a start," Frederica muttered. "It would avail me nothing, accomplish nothing except satisfy my father's viler instincts. I'm not a murderer, I don't…I will spy for my father, but I won't get innocent blood on my hands, not even for him."

Anton nodded. "But then-"

"I have to make it look as though I'm trying, obviously," Frederica said. "Failing, but not failing as badly as Auguste did when he was here. Near misses, but without the potential to be traced back to me or Normandie."

"A tightrope to be walked, your highness," Anton murmured.

"Indeed," Frederica said. She rose to her feet. "That's why I'm going to need your help, Anton. I need people I can trust if I'm going to pull this off."

"But…won't the king eventually grow so frustrated by your failures that he-"

"Probably," Frederica conceded. "But by then…by then I hope to have something of worth to offer him in turn, to assuage his anger and cool his ardour for blood. Besides, I may not need to keep this game up for very long. Once Cinderella gives Eugene a child then a royal marriage would be pointless: the succession would be out of reach of any child of mine."

"Nine months is still a long time to keep up such a charade, even in the best case," Anton said.

"I know, not to mention that nine months of murder attempts would probably terrify the poor girl into a nervous wreck, and what it would do to the child…" Frederica mused. "I will hope to bring something back for Normandie before then. Haiti, perhaps, my father has always envied the sugar wealth."

"No doubt His Majesty would like that very much, but how will you pry the richest of their colonies out of Armorique?"

Frederica laughed. "Perhaps I shall try the charms that failed on Prince Eugene on Princess Cinderella, and seduce it out of her bosom. These virgin brides frequently have vast oceans of passion held in check by the dams of their strict upbringings." She laughed again. "Or perhaps not. We shall see. We shall see what we can get for ourselves and in the meantime…in the meantime we shall play at being bungling assassins. And we must, of course, find someone plausible to blame these murder attempts on. Do you think that they'd believe it was the work of revolutionary conspirators?"

Before Anton could answer that, another servant appeared in the doorway. He knocked politely, and bowed his head.

"Yes?" Frederica demanded.

"Your Highness, a Colonel Etienne Gerard is at the door, requesting to speak with you."

Frederica's eyebrows rose. Gerard. Etienne Gerard, yes, the name was familiar to her. A childhood friend of Prince Eugene, Colonel in the Crown Hussars, came from an old family but a poor one. _I think I can guess what he is here about._

"Thank you, Charles; show him into the parlour. I'll be there shortly."

"As you wish, Highness," Charles said, as she scuttled out.

Anton frowned. "Do you think he suspects you?"

"If he has worked out that Cinderella, and not Eugene, was the target that I am an obvious suspect," Frederica said calmly. "But he cannot have any proof. I hope he doesn't have any proof."

"What can he have proof of, you did nothing?"

"Normandie did a great deal, and if he has proof of that then…" Frederica trailed off. She didn't need to finish that sentence. "Is there any way that we could silence our man in the Gatehouse. It may too late now, but if not…give it some thought for me, Anton, while I see what the gallant colonel knows or suspects. How do I look?"

"Like a lady whose natural charms make up for her surprise at the visitation."

"Oh, you old flatterer, you," Frederica chuckled. "Wish me luck."

She found Colonel Gerard in the parlour, exactly where she had instructed Charles to leave him. He was sitting somewhat stiffly in his seat, with his shako resting by his foot and his gloved hands resting on his lip. He looked so stiff and so awkward that it almost made him look out of place.

Even more so was the young – very young – officer in Foot Guards uniform standing beside the door. Frederica did not recognise him at all, nor did he introduce himself, or bow, or do anything. He simply watched her, as she walked in.

"Colonel Gerard, what a pleasure it is to receive you," she declared as she swept into the rented parlour. It was disingenuous, of course, and he would know that just as much as she did, but there were certain formalities to be maintained after all.

He rose to his feet, and as he bowed he took her hand and made as if to kiss it. "Your Highness, thank you for agreeing to see me." He gestured to the young officer behind him. "This is Ensign Jean Taurillion, he is assisting me in some royal business."

"Royal business indeed?" Frederica murmured as she sat down. "I take it then that this is not a social visit?"

"I fear not, highness," Etienne said as he, too, resumed his seat. "I must ask you some questions, regarding the recent attack upon the royal wedding."

"A terrible thing, absolutely terrible," Frederica murmured. "To turn what should be a day of joy into a tragedy. And she seems such a lovely girl, too."

"You think, then, that Her Highness Princess Cinderella was the target?" Etienne asked.

Frederica smiled. "Colonel, I fear that you're investigations have made you too suspicious if that is what you read into my words. No, I simply meant that it is a pity that a girl who seems so full of kindness had to suffer such a blot on what should have been her special day."

"Hmm," Etienne murmured. "I see. Your magnanimity is to be praised, Princess Frederica."

"Is it?"

"You had once hoped to marry Prince Eugene yourself, had you not."

"Had not every eligible maiden in this kingdom and others entertained such hopes?" Frederica replied.

"True," Etienne said. "All the same, your lack of upset or vindictiveness towards Princess Cinderella is to be commended."

"Perhaps," Frederica said. "Only if you assume that upset or vindictiveness is the more natural feeling."

"You were not upset? Not in the least, ever?"

Frederica laughed. "Colonel Gerard, what are you suggesting?"

Etienne shrugged. "And your father, highness? Was he upset?"

"My father is very easily upset by a great many things, it's a consequence of poor digestion," Frederica said easily. "May I ask again, Colonel, what all of this is about?"

"We have the assassin – would-be assassin – in our custody, as I am sure you know," Etienne said softly. "He isn't saying very much."

"That does not surprise me."

"Really? It surprised me," Etienne said. "Criminals are often eager to say anything that will win them some clemency."

"Is that so? I bow to your superior expertise in the matter," Frederica replied. "I am, after all, a mere girl and not experienced in these matters."

Etienne's smile was cold. "Your Highness, I think we both know that that is a particularly blatant falsehood. Your reputation-"

"Smears and lies concocted by enemies."

"There is no need to do yourself so grave a disservice, your highness, I am not come here to censure you."

"I am beginning to suspect, colonel, that you are come here to accuse me of attempted murder," Frederica said. "Can I ask what pointed you towards this flight of fancy?"

"The silence," Etienne said. "Very few people or organisations can inspire so much fear or loyalty that prison has no effect on it."

"And you think that I command such fear? Colonel, you flatter me."

"If you do not, I am certain that your father does."  
"My father did not do this," Frederica said firmly. "I do not do this. Normandie did not do this. And you cannot prove otherwise. I suggest you look elsewhere for your conspiracy, Colonel. Home grown radicals, perhaps. And now, you must excuse me, but-"

"I don't know whether there are any further incidents planned," Etienne said coldly. "But I would strongly advise against them. I will be watching, your highness."

Frederica smiled. "I think you're a little out of your depth in these waters, Colonel Gerard. Best paddle back to shore before the sharks arrive."

Etienne almost smiled back. Almost, but did not. He bowed. "Thank you for seeing me, Your Highness. I won't take up any more of your time."

"I do look forward to seeing you again, Colonel, once you have the real perpetrator in your clutches," Frederica said sweetly. "And I shall expect an apology once that happens."

"If that happens, princess, then I promise that I shall give you one." He bowed again. "Until next time."

The door was shut to the parlour as the colonel and his young lieutenant took his leave. Frederica slumped into her chair and, once again, sighed deeply.

 _As I suspected, suspicions but no proof._

 _Suspicions that just happen to be absolutely accurate._

 _Which doesn't help the good colonel at all, of course._

 _I need to find someone else to blame this on, and I need to find them quickly._

* * *

"With respect, sir, that didn't seem to get us very far," Jean said, as they walked down the steps from the princess' accommodation.

"She was never going to break down and confess, if that was what you were expecting," Etienne said, in an amused tone. "I went there mainly to warn her off trying again, in case she was thinking of it."

"Do you think it worked?"

"If there are no more attacks then it worked," Etienne said. "If there are more attempts, then it did not."

"But you think she did it?"

"I suspect that she gave the order, yes," Etienne replied. "But suspicions are all I have, and I couldn't punish her even if I had proof."

"You couldn't?"

"Of course not, she is the daughter of a king," Etienne said. "If there were proof, it would be up to His Majesty to do something, and that something would not involve locking up his neighbour's daughter."

"So she would get away with it?"

"She would be expelled from this country," Etienne replied. "After that…His Majesty could make a diplomatic complaint, demand compensation or…or he could declare war, if he wished to. In that light, perhaps its better that the mystery remains, officially at least, unsolved."

"But they tried to kill the princess!" Jean protested.

Etienne nodded. "And yet…I confess to not knowing Her Highness that well, but I suspect that she is the last person in the country who would want a war to be waged on her behalf."

* * *

Angelique scowled as she attempted to take herself, once more, through the steps of the waltz.

She tripped over the hem of her dress and nearly went flying.

"Oh, for God's sake!" she yelled, feeling her face flush with embarrassment despite the fact that there was no one there to observe her nearly planting her face into the ballroom floor.

She was alone here. This wasn't one of her lessons, this was…to be honest, she'd felt so humiliated by the scathing comments that she'd gotten in her regular lessons that she had decided to come back when it was deserted and practice on her own, in the hope that somehow a single night might turn her into such a swan that she would dazzle madame Prudence with her grace and elegance. Some hope, that. All she was going to accomplish was to tire herself out, probably.

She didn't want to give up. She wasn't going to give up. They wanted to change her into a lady, well she was going to be the most ladylike lady that ever ladied and she was going to do it without changing who she was inside one jot! That would show them!

She took a deep breath. She had to calm down. She couldn't get so frustrated about this. She had a red face already, Angelique could feel it. If she could kept this up she was…she had to calm down.

Angelique huffed, and tried to remember where her arms were supposed to go. This would have been a lot easier with music, and a partner. Still, she didn't have either of those so she would have to make do.

 _Let's see, how did it go? One step forward, one step to the – oh no! That's the man, isn't it? One step backwards, one step to the right, one step to the…this is the awful one, isn't it?_

Angelique scowled as she hopelessly ruined the turning step, or whatever the fancy name for it was.

 _I couldn't do this going forwards, let alone backwards._

"Angelique?"

Angelique jumped as Jean walked out onto the ballroom. His boots squeaked on the floor, but she hadn't heard him coming until now.

"Don't scare me like that!" Angelique snapped. "What are you doing here, anyway?"  
"Looking for you," Jean said. "And you? Why are you here all alone?"

"I like the view when there are no people around," Angelique declared haughtily. She hesitated. "I…well, if you must know I was practicing my dancing."

Jean grinned. "I'd like to see that."

"No, you really wouldn't, I'm terrible at it," Angelique replied. "I was hoping that I could improve with no one watching me, but…"

Jean frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Angelique sighed. "I just can't seem to get it right."

Jean shrugged. "Maybe I can help you. I could probably do with some practice myself."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm saying…well, it might be easier practicing with a partner."

Angelique let out a snort of laughter. "Jean Taurillion, are you asking to dance with me?"

Jean chuckled. "Well, what if I was? Would that be so bad? We've got the ballroom all to ourselves, and it seems a pity to waste it."

Angelique glanced up at the high ceiling, at the dim and unlit chandeliers, at the lavish scarlet curtains and the marble tiles that, even in the darkness, held some kind of soft glow about them. "Yes, yes I suppose you're right. We've no music though."

"I'm sure we'll manage somehow," Jean said softly. "We always do, don't we?"

Angelique laughed. "Yes, yes we do, don't we? Go on then. Hold me."

Jean took her arms in his, and held her close, and together they began to waltz across the empty ballroom.

 _A/N: This is the first chapter in this fic without any Cinderella in it, I think; don't expect this to happen very often, I just wanted to show a little of what is going on while Cinderella is on her honeymoon._


	13. The Pendulum of Honesty

The Pendulum of Honesty

Eugene sat in a small study in the summer palace and scowled at the letter sitting on the desk before him.

A messenger had brought it just after breakfast, a corporal of the Princess Royal Hussars who looked as though he had ridden hard to bring the letter to the summer palace as soon as possible. Eugene had recognised Etienne's handwriting on the envelope at once and, remembering the assignment that he had given him before he and Cinderella had set off on their honeymoon.

And so he had made his excuses to Cinderella and left her alone while he took the letter into the study.

And now it sat on the desk in front of him.

 _Dash it all, Etienne, couldn't you have waited a couple of days? Couldn't you have waited until the honeymoon was over?_

He picked the letter up, holding it lightly between two fingers, and read it again. It didn't sound any better than it had the first two times.

 _My dear Eugene,_

 _I hope that this finds you in good health, and that your honeymoon is going well. I wish you and Cinderella every happiness._

 _Forgive the lack of formality in the address, but this is not a formal piece of correspondence. In fact I might go so far as to say that His Majesty, your father, might not want me to write to you. In fact, I am fairly sure that he would not and that is why I am writing to you now rather than waiting the extra days to give you my report when you return._

 _You asked me to investigate the attempt upon your life outside the cathedral on your wedding day. This I have done. I have attempted to interrogate the gunman, but he refuses to talk even under threat of execution. He will say nothing, even exchange for a more merciful sentence. As it stands he is to be put to death tomorrow, so that you don't have to concern yourself with him when you return to the capital._

 _The fact that he is willing to die rather than speak suggests to me that he is more than just a hired gun. This is a true professional and, dare I say, a fanatic. I have investigated the local anarchist groups – both those who announce themselves loudly through public rabble rousing and those secret societies known to the police – and I have come to the conclusion that on the whole they are a bunch of comic opera organisations who couldn't arrange an assassination attempt even if they wanted to. They are all bluster, and lack the kind of men capable of taking deadly and decisive action._

 _I have, after investigation, come to a conclusion that you may find rather uncomfortable. My friend, I know you to be a brave man, and I am sure that if I told you that the revolutionaries were out for your head you would not flinch for a moment. I fear what I write next may be harder to bear: it is my belief that the target of the assassination attempt after the ceremony was not you but Princess Cinderella, and that the moving hand behind the attempt was Princess Frederica of Normandie._

 _I have no hard evidence of this, and His Majesty is not convinced. He doesn't believe that Cinderella has any enemies, and insists that you must have been the target. He refuses to expel Princess Frederica from our country or to complain to the Norman ambassador._

 _That is why I am writing to you, to tell you that your wife is in danger and may continue to be so._

 _I will continue to look for solid proof to connect Princess Federica to the shooting, but with the imminent death of the assassin…I am not hopeful._

 _I would hate to see the same tragedy befall you a second time._

 _Yours, faithfully,_

 _Etienne Gerard_

The letter dropped from Eugene's trembling fingers. He didn't need to read it again. The words were burned into his mind in letters of fire twenty feet tall.

… _it is my belief that the target of the assassination attempt after the ceremony was not you but Princess Cinderella, and that the moving hand behind the attempt was Princess Frederica of Normandie…_

… _the target of the assassination attempt after the ceremony was not you but Princess Cinderella …_

… _the target was Princess Cinderella…_

… _the target was Cinderella…_

He had almost as hard a time believing it as his father apparently had. The idea that someone would want to try and kill his wife, his sweet and gentle wife, it seemed so thoroughly absurd. He could see her now, just about, out of the corner of the window. She was in the garden, waiting for him, sitting on a stone bench while she read. She looked lovely, as ever; as fair as rose any that bloomed in the flowering rose-bushes on either side of where she sat. The idea that someone could wish her dead, the notion that anyone could be so monstrously depraved as to wish ill on such a wonder, that anyone could earnestly desire to mar such beauty with such horror, it…it was almost unthinkable.

And yet he did think it, because Etienne was his closest and his oldest friend and because Eugene trusted his judgement even more than he trusted that of his father. And Etienne thought she was in danger.

After all, having failed once but gotten away with it, what was to stop Frederica of Normandie from trying again? Whatever offence Cinderella had done to her – and it occurred to him sourly that the offence she had committed was probably marrying him and scotching Frederica's hopes for a Norman match – was still outstanding and not soothed by failure.

It was enough to make him want to rush out at once and drag Cinderella inside to lock her away in some dark, windowless room where no one could get to her.

The only reasons that he did not do so at once were that it would have frightened Cinderella and made her thoroughly miserable at the same time. He could not do that, and there was even the possibility that it would do him no good anyway.

But all the same…he could not do nothing. He would not do nothing. He would…he wasn't quite sure what he would do yet, though the presence of the dragoons meant that he was fairly confident in security around the Summer Palace. It was afterwards that concerned him, when Cinderella went out, or…well, he couldn't keep her inside the palace for her whole life. A princess needed to be seen from time to time, and she would not want to be confined.

But unconfined, she was vulnerable.

No, no, he would find a way. He would make this stop, and in the meantime he would see that she was protected.

He would keep her safe, he vowed it.

Eugene tossed Etienne's letter into the fire, so that no one could set eyes on it by accident.

He would keep her safe. No matter what he had to do, he would keep her safe.

He couldn't…he wouldn't lose Cinderella. He could not.

He would not.

* * *

Cinderella sat in the garden with fragrant red roses all around her, feeling the gentle breeze caress her cheek and gently ruffle her hair.

The breeze had to do all of those things itself because Eugene had left her for a little while, he had some important business to attend to that could not wait, not even for a little while, prompted by that letter he had received. Probably it was from His Majesty the King, demanding an urgent response. Oh well, he was a prince after all; even on their honeymoon it was foolish and selfish of her to assume that she could have him all to herself all of the time.

Besides, this time alone gave her some time to think. Her eyes brushed across the page of the open book in front of her without really seeing the words, still less taking them in. She had something else on her mind.

She was wondering how she could tell Eugene about magic.

That was the last secret that she had from him. It was the last question that he had about her that remained unanswered. Everything else - unless there was something that Cinderella had forgotten, some secret so deep that not even she remembered it - he knew by now. He knew about her past (not every little detail, perhaps, but he knew enough to understand), he knew about the mice and the birds and more importantly he knew about Cinderella's gift where they were concerned. Eugene knew those things now and he had accepted them, and her. The shameful fact of her servitude had moved him to anger on her behalf, not to shame of her; her ability to speak to mice and understand the chirping of the birds had surprised him, but not repulsed him. Only one secret remained: how had she, a scullery maid, come by the most dazzling dress of all to catch the eye of the crown prince at the royal ball that night?

Eugene had not pressed the question since she had first begged off from answering it, and in the days that followed it had crossed Cinderella's mind that perhaps he thought she had stolen a dress from somewhere. No, no he would not think that of her. He was too good a man and seemed to understand her too readily - vaulting over each fresh revelation in his stride without interruption as he did - to think her capable of that. All the same, she felt that she ought to tell him. After all, she had told him everything else, why not tell him this as well. With only one secret left, why not reveal it? Let him see all of her and, in seeing, truly know her.

Cinderella felt it safe to say that they knew one another far better now than they had done even on their wedding day; the sort of small things that a husband and wife should know about one another: Cinderella knew what foods Eugene liked and did not like, she knew that he occasionally liked to smoke thin cigars from Louisiana; Cinderella meanwhile had learnt that she did not particularly care for the smell of cigars, in fact a lot of the little details that Eugene had learnt about her she had been learning about herself as well, having been given the opportunity to taste foods and wines that had been denied to her in the past she now had opportunity to say whether she enjoyed them or not. Not unimportant things, but small at the same time. There was only one great secret that she still kept to herself, and Cinderella wanted to tell him now.

She wanted him to see her, whole, with no deceptions. And she hoped; no, she believed, that when she told him the truth Eugene would accept it kindly and with love. Because he was a kind man, and he loved her.

So she would tell him, she was tired of keeping secrets from her prince; she would tell him, she needed only to find the right words to say it.

* * *

Dinner that night was quiet. Moreso than Cinderella had come to expect during the two weeks of her honeymoon, where Eugene had turned out to be quite garrulous around the dining table. He seemed so keen to learn about her, as well as to share his knowledge about his family, the country, or anything else that Cinderella might wish to know.

Not so tonight. Tonight he was silent, and in consequence the room was silent also, disturbed only by the tiny scraping sounds of knives and forks rubbing against plates as they sawed through meat and speared vegetables.

It reminded Cinderella of the dinners that she had endured immediately after her father's death, before her stepmother had completed her descent into servitude, when she had still been allowed - a dubious privilege, at best - to dine with her stepmother and stepsisters. Conversation had been near absent there, as well, and Cinderella's attempts to initiate such had been met with stern disapproval from her stepmother. Cinderella had secretly been more than half glad to be banished to the kitchen to eat, where at least she could talk to Jaq and her growing band of mouse friends.

The comparison, she conceded, was profoundly unfair to Eugene. He didn't look stern. Certainly he didn't look as though he hated the very sight of her. Instead he looked concerned; his head was bowed as though it was being pushed down by the weight of a thousand troubles; he did not meet her eyes, nor really even look at her. He picked at his food to an extent that made Cinderella - to whom, she noticed, the cook had begun sending out very small portions in apparent despair at the amount of food she was returning uneaten - seem like a glutton. Nor, in stark contrast to previous nights, had he commented on how little Cinderella had to eat, and it wasn't because he had accepted her repeated assertion that she was eating as much as she needed to and no more. He had been distracted all day, ever since he recieved that letter, and it seemed to be getting worse, not better. It was a silly thing to complain of, really; and Cinderella didn't even mean to complain of it, but when she had come down after changing for dinner Eugene had had practically nothing to say to her blue evening gown, when before he had always been sure to offer some compliment; and his kiss before she sat had seemed almost perfunctory.

She might have attributed it to him growing bored of her already if the change had not been so sudden, and had he not been his usual attentive self at breakfast. No, this was the work of that letter, she was sure of it.

Cinderella set her steaming sponge pudding to one side as she pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. She glided around the dining table and knelt down beside Eugene, placing one hand on his arma and another on his shoulder to attract his attention. "What's the matter?"

Eugene stared at her for a moment. Cinderella would have thought him surprised to find her there, except that he looked more grateful for her presence than surprised. She wondered where else he had expected her to be, or if he thought her so self-absorbed that she wouldn't notice his own distress when it was occurring right under her nose.

"Nothing is wrong," he said softly. "You should eat before your dessert gets cold."

Cinderella ignored that comment. "You know, at times you're almost as bad a liar as I am."

A pained look crossed Eugene's face. "There...it doesn't matter; pay no attention to me, please."

"Pay no attention?" Cinderella repeated. She slipped the wedding ring off her finger and held it up so that the candlelight glimmered on the gold. "You gave this to me. You put this on my finger and made me your wife and that means that you are my concern. Your happiness is my concern; your peace of mind is my concern. If something is bothering you - and something is clearly bothering you - then, please, tell me. Let me help you, the way that you have always been so eager to help me."

Eugene pushed the ring back onto her finger. "If I told you, you would regret it immediately."

"Try me," said Cinderella, stubbornly. "Please."

Eugene hesitated for a moment. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because...because it is a secret of state," Eugene said.

"Oh, well in that case." Cinderella suspected that that was another lie, but she decided not to press the point. If Eugene didn't want to confide in her then that was his right, just as it was hers to keep her secrets until she was ready to reveal them to him. She wanted to help him, and to ease his burdens, but if that wasn't what he wanted then, well, she would not make herself obnoxious to him by harping on it. She got up from off the floor. "If you can't tell me then, of course, you mustn't tell me." She smoothed out her skirt with both hands. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

Eugene reached out and grabbed her hand, as if he wanted to feel that she was still there. "Thank you," he whispered.

Cinderella squeezed his hand, the way that he did when she was troubled and in need of reassurance. "Always."

Despite having admonished her not to let her desert grow cold - the poor chef must be wroth with both of them - Eugene ignored the food before him but twisted in his seat to look out of the gallic window out into the grounds. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"

Cinderella recognised this for the attempt to change the subject that it was, but if Eugene wanted to change the subject to take his mind off this 'secret of state' that was trying him so then she was happy to oblige. She kept hold of his hand as she half turned to face the glass doors with the criss-crossed veins upon them. "Yes, it looks wonderful out there." Despite the fact that moon was only half full, there remained enough light in the gleaming half of the orb and in the stars that swarmed around it to illuminate the spacious garden the sprawled about the summer palace. Those gardens lost a little of their daylight charm by the fact that all the fragrant and colourful flowers had closed up for the night, but what remained - the bushes, the statues, the gently flowing fountain - was cast into a shade of midnight blue by the half-light shining down upon them.

Eugene rose to his feet - Cinderella grabbed hold of the hem of her dress and pulled it back before he could accidentally plant one of the legs of his chair upon it - leaving his meal unfinished before. Cinderella recalled her servitude well enough to spare a thought for the poor cook and all his unappreciated labours, but her concern for Eugene was sufficiently great that it was no more than a single thought.

"I need to take a stroll, to clear my head," he announced. "Will you join me?"

Cinderella smiled. "I'd be delighted to."

She slipped her hand into his, and with the other hand hand held up her gown as they left the summer palace and walked out into the night-lit gardens. The air was cool, but no so cold that Cinderella felt the need of a shawl. The night was alive with the noises of owls and trickling fountains, but they were not such harsh noises as to disturb or frighten her. She felt a calm settle upon her as they walked together through the darkness, and as she looked up into his face it seemed that the night air was calming him, too.

"Are you reminded of that night?" Eugene asked.

Cinderella didn't need to ask which night he meant. She cast her gaze across the blue-tinted gardens, at the shrubs and and the burbiling fountains. "Yes. Yes, it does." She giggled childishly.

"What is it?"

"I suppose I should thank you for allowing me to say: speaking of which..." Cinderella chuckled. "Which is to say, thank you for the opportunity to tell you something that I wanted to tell you anyway." She looked down for a second. "I never told you how I arrived at the ball, did I? And in such a beautiful dress."

"No," Eugene replied. "You wouldn't say."

Cinderella smiled. "Magic."

"Magic?" Eugene repeated, and there was at least a little sceptical.

"Magic. The dress, the carriage, the glass slippers, they all came from magic. It came into my life, our lives, that night and changed it completely." Cinderella looked up into his eyes. "I had a dress, at first. It was pink, with a sash and ribbons along the hem and a big bow on the chest. My friends made it for me, the mice and birds...because I was working so hard I had no time to do it myself. I wore a white band in my hair, like the one you've seen me wearing sometimes."

"Ahh," Eugene said. He paused for a moment. "Your mice not only talk, but sew?"

"In a pinch, yes," Cinderella replied in a tone as light as drizzling rain. "It was so kind of them; they just wanted me to have a good time for once. They knew how much I wanted that."

"But the dress you ended up wearing wasn't pink," Eugene pointed out. "And not a sash or ribbon to be seen."

"No," Cinderella agreed. "That dress...it didn't last very long. I was so happy that I didn't think...I never imagined that...I suppose I got carried away with how happy I was; it wouldn't be the last time. I threw on the dress and I rushed downstairs and I saw my stepmother and stepsisters waiting there and I was so glad that I hadn't missed them, that they hadn't left without me. I asked them to wait for me, I twirled my dress for them, I asked them if they liked it." _Isn't it lovely? Do you like it? Do you think it will do?_ Cinderella frowned for a moment. "They didn't like it very much."

"This is going to be another example of how your lovely family is not as bad as all that, isn't it?" Eugene asked.

Cinderella looked away for a moment. It had been wrong of Jaq and Gus to take those things without asking but still...she had been so scared, so terrified of her stepsisters; when Stepmother stopped them she'd been afraid that they were going to... She didn't want to dwell on what had happened next, the way that Drizella had torn the beads from her neck, the way that Anastasia had joined her in tearing Cinderella's pretty dress to shreds. The way that they had looked then, the cruelty in their faces... She didn't want to think about that too much. She returned her gaze to Eugene. "I'll just say that by the time they were finished I didn't have a dress any more."

"I see," Eugene muttered darkly.

"Then they left for the ball and I...I cried," Cinderella confessed. "It's funny, but when I thought that I wouldn't be able to go to ball I, I wasn't happy about it but I bore it. But after thinking that I was going, to have that taken away...I couldn't bear it."

Eugene nodded. "The fall hurts more the higher up you are. But you still haven't mentioned any magic."

"Well, here it comes now," Cinderella said. "When I was lying there crying, when I felt as though I'd lost all hope of anything ever getting better...that's when my fairy godmother appeared."

"Fairy godmother," Eugene said. "That's just…peasant superstition."

"All superstitions have to start somewhere," Cinderella replied. "Maybe there's more truth in them than you think." She paused. "I know what I saw: a woman who appeared out of nowhere, telling me to have hope. A woman who could turn a pumpkin into a carriage, mice into horses…and torn and shredded rags into the most beautiful ballgown in the kingdom. Doesn't that sound like fairy magic?"

"I…" Eugene trailed off. "It seems…you're serious?"

"Completely," Cinderella said. "Magic brought me to you. Magic brought us together. Until midnight."

Eugene frowned. "Midnight. Is that…"

"At the stroke of twelve the spell ended," Cinderella said. "And everything was just as it had been before. I knew that before I even climbed into the coach but still, I…I stayed too long; when we were together I forgot about everything, even the time. And so I had to run, before you saw me for what I really was."

"You should have just told me that your magic was about to run out, it would have made a lot more sense that telling me you had to go and meet the prince," Eugene remarked dryly.

An expression that was half smile and half-grimace of embarrassment. "To be fair to myself, that would have been a perfectly plausible excuse if I had been dancing with anybody but the prince."

Eugene grinned. "I'm afraid that, having been on the receiving end of your excuse…I have to say it couldn't have been more obvious that you were looking for an excuse to get away if you had been trying to give that impression. The way that you were stammering and looking around you it was…almost adorable, really."

Cinderella groaned. "You must have thought I was such a fool."

"Actually, when I got over my surprise…I was almost glad to realise that you hadn't known who I was," Eugene said. "Astonished, but glad."

Cinderella laughed. "Well, I hadn't really moved in the right circles to recognise you by sight. You weren't put off by my running away."

"I was confident my boyish charms would win you back," Eugene said breezily. "Hang on."

"What?"

"Your glass slippers didn't disappear at midnight."

Cinderella smiled, and shrugged her shoulders, "It's magic. Who am I to explain its mysteries. So…do you believe me?"

Eugene looked into her eyes. "I do," he said quietly. "I might not from any other mouth, but…I believe you."

Cinderella closed her eyes and sighed in relief. "I'm glad. I mean, I thought that you would but…I'm glad anyway." A little laugh of joy escaped her lips. "And now I'm relieved, to have shared my last secret with you."

"Your last?"

"You expected there to be more?" Cinderella replied. "No. That was it. You know everything now." She let go of Eugene's hand and walked in front of him, turning in place upon her toes. "I've nothing left to hide. You see all of me now."

Eugene looked surprised. And, for some reason that Cinderella could not guess at, a little…disappointed? It was hard to say, it faded so quickly that Cinderella told herself that she must have imagined it, because he smiled and bent a little to kiss her on the forehead. "Thank you, for being so honest with me."

"After all you've done for me, honesty is the least that you deserve," Cinderella.

There was another strange expression on Eugene's face for a moment, something that Cinderella could not quite make out before it disappeared. "Yes," he murmured. "Yes, I…I suppose you're right."

* * *

 _Cinderella stood in the midst of a meadow filled with flowers._

 _Eugene leaned against a tree and watched as she wove red roses through her strawberry. She was dressed all in white, in shimmering white, save for the golden crown that sat atop her head. She hummed gently and soothingly as she twirled in place, carefree, innocent, full of joy._

 _Eugene smiled. He could watch her for so long and not grow tired of it._

" _You have forgotten me."_

 _Eugene started. He knew that voice, that was-_

" _You have forgotten and forsaken me."_

 _Eugene turned around. His eyes widened in astonishment. "Katharine?"_

 _Where Cinderella was dressed all in white, Katharine was swathed in black. She wore a black cloak, like the wicked witch out of some old fairy story. All her clothes – what Eugene could see of them beneath the cloak – were likewise black as night. Darkness itself seemed to cling to her, blocking out all the bright and brilliant sunlight of the day and stopping it from touching her sable-clad form._

 _She looked up, and he recoiled from the face that lay beneath that black hood. It was Katharine, but not as he remembered her. Her golden hair had turned to white, streaks of blood ran down from her green eyes instead of tears, her skin was stretched across her skull in a hideous parody of the beauty she had worn so well. A worm crawled out of her nose._

" _Why do you blanch?" she demanded. "Has death not become me?"_

 _Eugene felt his whole body tremble. Behind him, he could still hear Cinderella's careless singing, but he could not tear his eyes away from poor, ruined Katharine. "This…this cannot be real."_

" _It is as real as your abandonment of me," Katharine hissed._

" _I never-"_

" _You have forgotten and abandoned me!" she shrieked, anger and pain in equal measure mingling in her voice._

" _I never left you, you were taken from me," Eugene cried._

" _And now you have found another to take my place," Katharine declared. "You have even married her."_

" _I would have married you, if we had time-"_

" _A few scant days was time enough to take this thieving harlot for your bride!"_

" _Don't talk about Cinderella like that!" Eugene snapped. "I love her."_

 _Katharine flinched as though he had struck her. "You said you loved me once."_

 _Eugene sighed. "And I meant it, on my life. But you are gone. You were taken from me. What was I supposed to do, deny all other love when love returned? Live my whole life as celibate as a monk in memory of you?"_

" _I died and you forsook my memory, should I forgive you just because you were lonely?" Katharine demanded. "Should I forgive your betraying me for the first-"_

" _Cinderella is not the first, far from it," Eugene said. "She is my heart's match."_

 _Katharine's face twitched in anger. "Do you…is your love for her greater than for me? Is it purer than ours?"_

 _Eugene scowled. "Katharine-"_

" _Is it?"_

 _Eugene took a deep breath. "Yes."_

 _Katharine hissed. "Then enjoy it while it lasts, for soon she shall be taken from you. Just as I was."_

" _No," Eugene murmured. "No, this isn't real, you are not real, you are not Katharine and your words-"_

" _Frederica of Normandie hunts for her, and she will have her prize," Katharine said, she was practically salivating over every word. "In your heart you know it to be true."_

 _The word true echoed in the sunlit meadow, even as the light itself began to darken._

 _Then Cinderella screamed._

 _Fear and pain alike were mingled in her desperate wordless cry. Eugene turned, to see that Cinderella's golden crown had turned to fire, burning at her lovely hair, remaining immobile in spite of all her attempts to push or shake it free. The pretty steps of Cinderella's dancing had turned to frantic, desperate flailing through the glade, and her beautiful singing had turned to terrified and anguishing howling for relief._

 _Eugene tried to reach her, tried to help her, but a great wind erupted through the meadow and forced him back, holding him in place, defying all his efforts to reach Cinderella, to help her, to…to do anything but watch helpless as she was ripped away from him._

 _The flames continued to spread across her hair, and Cinderella's screams grew louder as her flawless white dress turned as red as blood and Cinderella, she…began to wither like a dried out grape, as though the dress itself were draining all the life out of her. Cinderella stared at him, her eyes accusing, and Eugene could only watch as her fair skin turned slowly and inexorably into the covering of a corpse._

" _No!" Eugene yelled_ as he started up in bed and then fell back down onto the mattress with a heavy thud.

Cinderella gasped as the sound stirred her to wakefulness beside him. "What…Eugene! What's the matter? I heard…that was you shouting, wasn't it?"

Eugene took a deep breath. Then another, and then a third. In the darkness, with only a sliver of moonlight coming in through the curtains of the bedroom, he could just about make out Cinderella. She was fine, praise God, she was fine.

"Nothing," he said. "It was-"

"It wasn't nothing," Cinderella said. She moved closer to him, and in the moonlight he could see her face now, the concern in those blue eyes. She placed one hand on his chest. "You're sweating. It's feel like you're covered in it."

Eugene rested his chin upon his chest. "I had a nightmare, a silly nightmare, that's all." He didn't mention what the nightmare was about. _And now who is the honest one amongst us? And to think, when our honeymoon began I had the nerve to mentally chide you for keeping secrets._ Cinderella had revealed all of herself to him, and when she claimed that Eugene believed that she meant it. If there were things that she kept hidden now it was because she could see them there. And yet he…he had told her nothing. He kept Katharine from her, he kept the threat of Frederica, he even kept this nightmare of his.

And yet, knowing the fault did not lead to correction of the fault. He could not tell her. Not any of it. He could not bring himself to speak the words.

"I'm sorry I woke you," he said, and kissed her on the cheek. "Go back to sleep."

"And you?"

"I'll try and sleep more peacefully now," he assured her.

But sleep, though it swiftly returned to Cinderella, eluded him. He could only lie awake and watch her as she slept. His wife, his princess, his Cinderella.

He could not lose her. He had to keep her safe.

He could not lose her.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Cinderella has been a net recipient of emotional comfort so far in this story, which makes sense because she is both the protagonist and has had an awful life, but I was glad in this chapter to give her the chance to at least try to move a little beyond that and offer some comfort to other people. In this case Eugene doesn't give her the chance to actually share his burden, but she tries and I'm afraid that that is more than I ever let Cinderella do in the previous version of the story. Tall oaks from little acorns grow and all that._

 _I'm pretty sure that Cinderella has shared all of her major secrets with Eugene now, but if you can think of any that I've forgotten about, leave a review and let me know. In fact if you're reading this please leave a review anyway, they're very energising for an author._

 _This was the last honeymoon chapter, I hope you've enjoyed them, and the next chapter will see Cinderella return to the palace and all the various subplots swirling there._


	14. A Mistake with Consequence

A Mistake with Consequence

A smile played across Eugene's lips as he sat down across the table from her. "Can I expect you to dress up so prettily for breakfast every day, or is this just a special treat for the honeymoon?"

Cinderella looked down. "I suppose...it has been a bit much sometimes, hasn't it?"

Eugene chuckled. "Is this a world to hide virtues in?" he asked, and the way he said it suggested a quotation, though Cinderella didn't recognise what it was a quote from. "You're a beautiful woman, why shouldn't you dress beautifully if you wish?"

"To be honest, I just thought it was a little silly to get dressed for breakfast, and then go back to our room to get dressed again afterwards. And since I wanted to look my best for-" she stopped short of saying 'for you' in case he took it to mean that she did not, herself, love all her lovely gowns and sparkling jewels. "It seemed the obvious thing to do."

She looked up, in time to see Eugene nod. "A feast for my eyes as well as my tastebuds is something that I will never complain of." He smiled. "I see that you're wearing your hair up. It's the first time since we came here."

Cinderella smiled. "You remember the way I've worn my hair each day?"

"Apparently," Eugene replied. "It would have been awfully embarassing if I'd been wrong, wouldn't it?"

Cinderella giggled.

"And anyway, it's only been two weeks," Eugene said. "It's nothing to boast about. But I was right, about it?"

"Yes, Duchamp was very relieved," Cinderella said. "She's always urging me to style my hair more regally. Well, here it is: regal."

Eugene leaned back in his hair. "As I told you before, I think you look lovely with your hair like that. But my question is why? Were you worn down by Duchamp?"

"No," Cinderella said lightly. "I...we're going back to the palace today."

"Back home," Eugene said.

"Back home," Cinderella whispered. "Where your father, and my new ladies in waiting, and everyone will be waiting for us. It's the first time that they'll see me as a princess. The first time some of them will see me at all. And so...and so I wanted to look like a princess, like a real princess, for their first impression of me at least." To that end she had donned a beautiful tulle ballgown of midnight blue, with a full skirt and a figure-embracing bodice and a neckline of soft, opaque silk that swooped around her shoulders; a sapphire, set in gold, sat atop the silk upon her breast, while two more sat upon her shoulders as the silk flowed over them. Her bustle was of a slightly lighter shade of blue, and cushioned her so that she barely felt the chair that she was sitting on. Around her neck was wrapped a pearl necklace so long that it was able to form four strands: the first, a double strand, coiled tight around her throat like a snake, then a single strand descending from her neck in what was appropriately called a 'princess' style, and the last looping down lower still, diving for the neckline of her dress before it reared back up again. More pearls adorned her fair, pale arms in bracelets: a single loose strand about her left wrist stacked above a tighter, double-strand bracelet clasped more tightly about her arm, closer to her elbow; while on the right she wore a single strand pearl bracelet, also tightly clasped, and above that a looser fitting bracelet of sapphires, set in silver. Upon her fingers, only her wedding and engagement rings glistened brightly. Her hair, as Eugene had remarked, was arranged in an elegant gallic twist. A hair band of blue silk, stitched through with miniature diamonds that sparkled in the sunlight coming in through the window, embraced her head like a crown, even as an actual crown - a tiara at least, high and silver and set with sapphires - nestled in her strawberry locks. Her ears where wholly concealed behind large, flat, white earrings, studded like her hair band with tiny diamonds. Her eyeshadow was dark purple, but tinged with gold at the edges so that it looked all in all like the wings of a butterfly.

"You are a real princess," Eugene said. "Now, and always. Don't forget that."

The slightest frown disfigured Cinderella's brow. "I just meant...I suppose I'm a little nervous."

"You'll be fine," Eugene replied. "You stood between the muskets of the guard and the howls of the mob, how can this perturb you?"

"I didn't have time to think about that," Cinderella said. "I just did it. Now I've been able to brood on...on what could go wrong."

"Nothing will go wrong," Eugene insisted. "Trust me. Everything is going to be splendid."

Once breakfast had been finished off, Eugene rose from his seat and offered his hand to Cinderella. "The carriages are waiting, shall we go?" Most of their things had been packed up the night before, and the servants had finished off the rest whilst Cinderella and Eugene were waiting.

"We should thank all the staff first, for all their hard work," Cinderella replied.

Eugene frowned. "What on earth for?"

"Why, for looking after us of course," Cinderella said. "Haven't we had a lovely time, and wonderful meals and everything that we could want?"

"That's what they get paid for, darling," Eugene remarked dryly.

"I know," Cinderella said softly. "But, please, take it from me...their work is very hard and, well, a little appreciation can make a great difference."

Eugene smiled. "I'm sure you're right. Very well, I'll have them all called together and you can thank them all."

That turned out to not take so long at all, the staff at the Summer Palace was not vast, but Cinderella made sure to express her and Eugene's gratitude to each of them. One of the most wearing things about living in her Stepmother's house had been the complete and utter lack of any visible appreciation for her work. Whatever she did it, it was always: do it faster! Do it again! Then onto the next of your chores! Not once did anyone ever say 'Thank you, Cinderella, you've mended my dress wonderfully', or 'Oh, Cinderella, I'm so grateful for all your hard work'. She could perhaps have abided being treated as a servant rather than a daughter if she had been treated still as a valued and respected servant, rather than as a near-burden who was barely earning her keep. And so she was sure to express how much she - and Eugene - appreciated everything that their servants did to make the Summer Palace comfortable, and made clear that she understood that without them it would not have been nearly so pleasant a honeymoon. And, though she knew that they would not - were not able - to tell her so in as many words, Cinderella thought that they appreciated that.

That happy task accomplished, Eugene took Cinderella gently by the hand and led her out of the Summer Palace. As she passed through the door into the bright sunshine of a cloudless summer day, Cinderella looked back beyond the threshold to this pleasant place. The honeymoon was over. The work was about to begin.

Those servants returning with them back to the palace - Duchamp, Eugene's valet, a few others - were already waiting in the second coach, to which great piles of baggage were roped and lashed: Cinderella's elegant wardrobe for one thing, and all the jewels she was not wearing on her person secured in their box with Duchamp. The dragon escort who had protected them on the way here was already mounted up and waiting in twin columns of two, before the after the two waiting carriages.

Eugene helped Cinderella up into their richly appointed coach, and then as she settled herself upon the crimson cushions she could see out the open door Eugene turn to the captain of their dragoons who was standing by and waiting for his orders.

"I want two men on the roof and another one with the driver of this coach, and a man with the driver of the other coach," Eugene commanded. "And I want outriders one hundred yards ahead and fifty yards on either side of the column."

"Advance guards and flankers?" the captain sounded sceptical.

"Yes, where the ground permits, is that a problem?" Eugene demanded pugnaciously.

"No, Your Highness," the captain murmured. "It will be as you command."

The captain was issuing his commands as Eugene climbed into the carriage beside her. He seemed to have ordered something unusual, but Cinderella knew nothing about soldiers and war and that sort of thing and so she couldn't say what it was.

Eugene smiled as she sat down beside her, and placed his hand upon her own. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine."

But as the carriages and their accompanying column got under way - with dragoons riding through the fields on either side of the road, which must have been what Eugene ordered though Cinderella could not say why - Cinderella noticed that it was Eugene who seemed to be more nervous or at least concerned than she felt. He was always looking out the window, not gazing out as she found herself doing at the idyllic pastoral views past which they rumbled, but glancing out, his eyes twitching back and forth almost like a bird. He didn't seem to want her to know that he was doing it, but really it was unmistakable. It was as if he were looking for something, but at the same time he didn't really seem to want to see it.

"What's the matter?" Cinderella asked.

"Hmm?" Eugene murmured.

Cinderella gave him a knowing look. "Something's wrong, or you're worried it might be. Tell me."

Eugene sighed. "It's-"

"Don't say that it's nothing, because it clearly isn't," Cinderella replied. "Something's upset you, and if were behaving like you I know that you wouldn't stop until you pried the truth from me."

Eugene smiled. "You've become more confident, these last two weeks."

"You've made me brave," Cinderella murmured. She grinned. "And now you have to live with the consequences. Tell me the truth."

"The truth," Eugene muttered. "The truth...the truth is, yes, I am worried. I'm a little surprised that you're not worried. Someone...someone tried to kill me just two weeks ago."

"No, I...I mean of course I remember," Cinderella stammered. In her belief, irrational as she acknowledged that it was, that the shot had been meant for her she had forgotten for the moment that in the eyes of the world Eugene was far more likely the intended victim. _Oh, what must he think of me? It must seem as though I don't care about him at all._ "I remember, of course, but...but it didn't seem to bother you before. You hardly seemed to think about it. Are you afraid someone will try again?"

"I'm worried," Eugene hesitated for a moment. "I'm worried that you will be put at risk by their trying again, the way you were before; if that shot had gone a little..." he cupped her face with one hand, and Cinderella felt the smoothness of his glove against her cheek. "I'd die if anything happened to you."

Cinderella was a terrible liar, and she was nearly as bad at spotting lies before the fact - she could have spared herself much terror and heartache by realising before the fact that her Stepmother never had any intention of allowing her to go the ball, dress or no, chores done or no - but Eugene was nearly as poor a liar as she herself, and she could tell that he was not being entirely honest her. He was honest...when he said he was afraid that something would happen to her he was honest, she could feel that in his caress, the delicate affection with which he touched her confirmed it, but then...did he also believe that she had been the intended victim? Did he believe that she was still in danger from some unknown malice? _Does he know something? And why won't he tell me if he does?_ The best guess that Cinderella could make was that he didn't want her to worry, didn't wnat her to be afraid of assassins hiding in every shadow, guns and knives behind every corner. It was sweet of him, she supposed, but at the same time she also found it irksomely patronising that he felt the need to shield her from such things as though she were a child. If she was in danger then he ought to trust her enough to tell her so.

Of course, she could have been wrong. She might have been completely wrong, she had no way of knowing for sure except to ask him, and Cinderella didn't want to do that. She didn't want to accuse him of lying or keeping secrets from her when she had no proof of the fact. Eugene had his reasons, undoubtedly; and though Cinderella might not think they were very good reasons...what was the point in arguing, especially since she might be absolutely wrong and would only make herself sound foolish if that was the case.

If he wanted her to think that he feared only for her only as an accidental victim of his enemies, then she would play along. For now.

"Me?" she said. "If you have enemies then you should worry more about yourself."

"I can take care of myself," Eugene replied. "And I can handle any enemies I have."

"I'm sure you can," Cinderella murmured, holding his hand against her cheek by taking his wrist in her own gentle grip. "But be careful anyway, for my sake. I don't know what I'd do without you." That was no lie, that was absolutely true, and it occurred to Cinderella that all of Eugene's words to her were just as true when applied to him: the shot that had missed Cinderella might easily have struck Eugene. Any attempt upon her life might easily rebound on him. She could not...she could not bear it if he were to suffer from some plot against her. She would rather die in the most cruel way imaginable than see him come to harm in her stead.

Eugene leaned forward, and brushed his lips against hers. "I'll take care, but only if you promise to worry only for yourself, and not for me."

"The way that you're doing now?"

Eugene snorted. "It's a princely privilege to worry about his princess; but it's a privilege that only flows one way."

Cinderella lowered her head a little, so that she looking up at Eugene almost through her eyelashes. "How much in danger are you?"

Eugene was silent for a moment. He tried to laugh, it ended up sounding a little strangled. "Let's not get carried away, Cinderella. There is no reason to panic, no cause to jump at shadows. There is danger, yes, but nothing to lose our heads over. Nor, for the most part, any reason not to live our lives exactly as we would have otherwise."

Cinderella believed him. Although that might have been because she wanted to.

Eugene leaned back against the wall of the carriage. "Although...Cinderella, before we get home there are a few practicalities I want to discuss with you."

Cinderella looked up. "Practicalities?"

"Nothing to worry about, just...details," Eugene said. "Security, first of all: I have to insist that you never leave the palace without having a guard with you."

"Never?" Cinderella asked, and as she asked she imagined all the places where she might want to go where it would be awkward or inconvenient to have a guard or more with her. Suppose she wanted to visit a friend - not that she had any friends yet, but she might make some - how would she look having tea while some burly, faceless (in her imaginings) grenadier (or more) loomed over her.

"I promise, it won't be as awkward as it sounds," Eugene replied. "But, darling, you're a princess now. Leaving aside what danger...I...might be in, if you go wandering the streets by yourself anyone could kidnap you for the ransom of the treasury, or kill you just to make some sordid point; I can't let that happen."

"Do you always take a guard with you when you leave the palace?" Cinderella asked.

Eugene looked amusedly guilty. "I probably should. Make that certainly should." He took her hands, and clasped them within the shell-like embrace of his palms. "And I will start, if you'll do the same."

 _Oh, that was very clever of you._ He knew that she would not refuse him now, how could she? And besides, he did make sense. "Can I choose who I have protecting me? Will I like them?"

"No offence, Cinderella, but I'm not sure you could judge the requisite qualities," Eugene said. "I was going to ask Etienne to choose us each a platoon of good men; but I'll ask him to try and choose people you'll like."

"Etienne," Cinderella murmured. "You trust him so much, don't you?"

"With my life."

Cinderella smiled. "Apparently with both our lives."

"I suppose so," Eugene said. "Thank you for being so understanding?"

"Did you think that I'd throw a fit over it?"

"No, I...never mind," Eugene said quickly. "The other thing I wanted to talk to you about was money."

"Money?" Cinderella repeated. "What about it?"

"Well, there's the question of your having some."

Cinderella smiled, and with her left hand she fingered the sapphire bracelet around her wrist. "What do I need with money? I already have so many beautiful things? I often feel as though I have everything I could wish for."

Eugene laughed. "Just because you can't think of anything you want now doesn't mean that you never will. A new dress, a necklace that catches your eye, I don't want you to feel as though you have to come crawling to me every time you want to buy yourself something...or if you have a little bad luck at cards."

"You expect me to gamble?"

"Why not? Most people do," Eugene said.

"I'm not sure I'd be very good at it."

"Really? No matter," Eugene said lightly. "The point is this: my own income is thirty thousand pounds a year as Duke of St Malo."

"Duke?" Cinderella said. "But you're a prince."

"And a royal duke as well, as you are a princess and a duchess both from marrying me," Eugene replied. "It's all very medieval and goes back to ancient charters, but the point is I have lands which give me income of thirty thousand a year."

Cinderella nodded. Thirty thousand pounds a year was certainly nothing to sneeze at. Her father and mother (and Cinderella herself, of course) had lived very comfortably on just one thousand a year.

"I've already given instructions for ten thousand a year of that to be made available to you, without condition," Eugene continued.

Cinderella gasped. Ten thousand pounds a year? She couldn't spend that if she were the most extravagant woman in the country! She would need to clad herself in nothing but pearls, and new pearls every day, and hold a gala for the whole kingdom every night to be so profligate. "I...thank you."

"I have your heart," Eugene replied. "I'm not so insecure that I feel the need to hold onto your purse strings as well."

* * *

Several hours later - although, as they had set off early, it was not yet late afternoon even after a stop for lunch and to rest the horses - the royal procession returned to the capital. There were none of the great crowds who had turned out to cheer the happy couple on their wedding day, but as the coach rattle down the cobbled streets, proceeded and followed by a great column of men on horseback, people waved at them as they went by, and called out to them in loud, strong voices.

"God save your highnesses!"

"Long live the princess!"

"Hurrah for their highnesses!

"Bless you, princess!"

A group of little girls ran by the side of the procession, falling further and further behind as the carriages went by, calling out to 'Princess Cindella' in high-pitched, juvenilve voices. They squealed in delight as Cinderella leaned out of the carriage window to wave to them as they disappeared out of sight.

Yet even here, in the midst of such love and such a complete lack of hostility towards them from anyone, Eugene's anxieties were evident. He waved to no one, and he looked as though he did not much care for Cinderella waving to people either. Though Cinderella did not keep her eyes on him all the time - she was at the window, waving to those who cried out God's blessings, health and happiness upon the prince and princess - whenever she looked back at him, to see how he was enjoying the adulation, she found him looking more nervous than enthused.

Cinderella sat down, back from the window, and a slight sigh escaped from her lips. "Wasn't it you who said this morning that we couldn't let fear take over our lives?"

"I said we shouldn't change the way we live most of our lives," Eugene corrected her. "I didn't say anything about taking risks."

Cinderella tilted her head a little to one side, with a look of scepticism plainly visible upon her face. "How can you be afraid of danger when everyone out there is telling you how much they love you?"

"They loved us well on our wedding day, too," Eugene reminded her.

Cinderella frowned, "But-"

"I'd rather you didn't lean at the window like that," Eugene continued. "Someone could shoot at you."

"Perhaps," Cinderella conceded, in a voice far quieter than any of her mouse friends - but then it could be said that her mice were a little louder than average. "But listen to them out there, crying out to us. If we ignore them, if we reply with silence, if we won't even look at them...they won't keep cheering forever; they might even start yelling instead."

"And what of that?" Eugene replied. "They will not cheer forever, no matter what we do."

"But that doesn't mean they'll shout," Cinderella said. "Do you know what it would have taken for me to have loved my Stepmother? Do you know what it would have taken for me to have remembered my family fondly after I became engaged? Do you know what it would have taken for me to have asked for Anastasia or Drizella to become one of my ladies in waiting, to have seen them pensioned off and looked after?"

"They deserves a thrashing more than any of those things," Eugene growled.

"A Christmas present once a year," Cinderella declared. "And best wishes on my birthday. Perhaps a 'thank you' once in a while. Not much. Hardly anything at all. A little kindness, some small consideration, any sign that I was more than...don't you want the people to love us? I do."

"I...I'm not sure that it matters," Eugene confessed. "Certainly...I don't think it's worth risking your life over."

"I don't want to live in fear," Cinderella said. "I won't live in fear."

Eugene stared at her for a moment, and then let out a sort of laugh.

"What?" Cinderella asked.

"That feeling when you realise that your wife is braver than you are," Eugene said, with self-effacement but no chagrin in his voice. He leaned forward and gave her a kiss. "Very well, let's show them we care together, shall we?"

He joined her at the window to wave to the crowds as they went by.

"Hurrah for their highnesses!"

* * *

The carriage clattered to a halt before the grand staircase leading up the palace doors. The gates that marked the palace off from the rest of the world were closed behind them.

Eugene leapt quickly down from the carriage, and held out his hand to help her down in turn. "Welcome home, darling."

Cinderella smiled, and as she took his hand to climb carefully down from the coach to the flat stone surface she looked up at the tall, imposing spires that rose so steely and so high above her to scrape the clouds that floated in the sky. Her lavish chambers lay at the very top of one of those vast spires, though Cinderella could not have said which one. Eugene slept at the top of another tower, though she hoped that he would visit her a-nights more often than not, or else summon her to his bedchamber to lie with his strong arms around her. So many towers, so many staircases, so many corridors...so many places to get lost.

Her home, a place she barely knew.

But a wonderful place all the same. From afar, she had stared out of her window at this gleaming palace, luminous in the dark, shining brightly in the sunlight as though it were carved out of pearl, not built up out of stone. Now she stared up at it from up close, for now she lived in it.

And there would be plenty of time to find her way around; and until she learned, Eugene would guide her.

He was her charming price, and she was his beloved princess; whatever else fortune might throw their way that would never change.

"Cinderella?" Eugene murmured.

Cinderella realised that she must have been staring up at the palace for too long. "I'm sorry," she said. "I was just reminding myself of how lucky I am."

Eugene chuckled. "Will you take my arm, darling?"

"But of course," Cinderella said, as she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and let him lead her up the stairs.

 _Once I walked up these steps alone, with all the guards staring at me,_ Cinderella remembered how nervous she had felt, with what trepidation she had looked inside before she dared to cross the threshold, how she had expected to be challenged and expelled at any moment. _Now I walk up these steps on the arm of my husband, and no one has any reason to stare at me._

One of her slippers fell off on the way up. Because of course it did. Fortunately Eugene seemed more amused than impatient as Cinderella went back to get it, and the smile on his face was fond, and more than fond, as she rejoined him and took his arm once again.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Eugene's kiss was as swift as it was unexpected. "What on earth for?"

Cinderella allowed herself a smile as Eugene led her through the doors and the outer corridor, past the rows of guards who kept their eyes fixed above the heads of Cinderella and Eugene and into the atrium-

-Where there were met by a thunderous wave of applause descending down upon them like a great wave. Except where a wave of this size would have swept them away, this wave fell only on their ears with love and great affection.

It was coming from the row upon row of servants gathered in trim lines before the steps leading up the ballroom, the footmen and the cooks and the gardeners and so many people that Cinderella could only gasp in surprise at them all. Eugene looked a little less surprised, which is to say that he did not look startled in the least, but instead he looked as though, in spite of himself, he could not help but be pleased at the wave of applause rolling over him.

"Welcome! Welcome!" cried His Majesty as he descended the stairs and bore down upon with his arms spread out wide. "Welcome back, my boy; welcome my dear Cinderella; welcome home!"

Eugene knelt down to accept his father's tight embrace, and to embrace him in turn. "As always, your majesty, homecoming is joy."

 _Your majesty? Why is he being so formal with his father?_ Cinderella wondered, before realising that it was probably the presence of the servants that was making him retain some small measure of decorum. No doubt when they were alone there would be more affection, she was sure.

And so, mindful of Eugene's example, when the king released his son and turned to her Cinderella curtsied gracefully before him. "Your Majesty." There was much else she would have liked to have said - 'Thank you for having me' for one - but she was not sure if it would be proper to say it.

The king stared at her for a moment. "Such a beauty," he murmured. "The fairest rose in the kingdom without a doubt."

Cinderella felt herself blush. "Your majesty is too kind."

The shake of His Majesty's head was subtle, but noticeable. Then he turned to one of the servants - someone important no doubt, though Cinderella did not know his name - and nodded.

Said servant clapped his hands, and instantly the great army of the staff began to disperse about their various duties. Only a few - relative to those who had been there before - remained.

It swiftly transpired that they remained because they worked for Cinderella now, as part of her own 'household' within the greater household and hierarchy of the palace. In addition to her ladies' maid, there were the two chamber-maids - Constance and Paulette - whose job it was to keep her lavish suite of rooms in good order; a secretary to manage her social schedule and correspondence; a personal chef for when she might have to go away alone, or simply wanted something served to her room; an assistant kennelmaster to take care of Bruno - Cinderella fully intended to look after him herself, as she always had, but everyone else seemed to think that she would be too busy; her own driver and footmen for when neither Eugene nor His Majesty rode in the carriage with her; and then there were others whose jobs Cinderella found it harder to remember. And all of that was without bringing up either the ladies in waiting, who were not really servants, or the guards whom Cinderella hadn't met yet.

Amidst all of this blizzard and barrage the - only slightly absurd - thought that stuck in Cinderella's mind was this: _With so many people constantly coming in and out, when will the mice ever be able to visit me?_

And then, her staff - her staff, who worked for her, it felt so bizarre and unnatural that Cinderella could hardly believe it - having all bowed or curtsied to her and told her how honoured they were to serve the princess, they too began to disperse, each to their work.

She felt Eugene's hand squeezing hers; the tip of his thumb touched the sapphire bracelet dangling about her wrist. "How are you feeling?"

Cinderella made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a gasp. "Like this can't possibly be real."

Eugene chuckled. "I-"

"This way, son!" His Majesty boomed as he was halfway out the door. "You can tell me everything."

Eugene gestured with his head towards the door through which the king was rapidly disappearing. "I have to go now, but your ladies in waiting are...well, waiting for you up in your chambers. Do you think you can find the way there by yourself?"

"Um, I'm not sure," Cinderella admitted.

"Constance!" Eugene called to the chambermaid who was climbing up the stairs. "Show the princess up to her rooms."

Constance curtsied. "Of course, at your pleasure your highness."

 _Your Highness._ It felt strange to be addressed in such a way. Strange, and a little abnormal too. It was definitely better than being addressed as 'stupid' or 'lazy' or 'ungrateful' any of the other epithets her stepsisters had hung about her neck, but still... _Show the princess to her rooms._ When she had heard those words drop from his lips she had had to resist the urge to curtsy and murmur some words of obedience, as though she were the maid and not the princess.

 _I have a lot more to learn than just which set of stairs leads where._

"Have fun," Eugene said. "I'll see you at the ball." In honour of their return, and in slightly belated celebration of their marriage, a grand ball was being held that night in the palace.

"Not before then?" Cinderella asked, because although the ball was sure to be wonderful and she loved the very idea of it, it was also several hours away even now, and she hoped...she didn't want to be apart from him so soon, for so long.

Eugene grinned boyishly. "I'll try and make my escape before then, although by that time I'm sure you'll be so engrossed with your ladies that you won't want to see me."

"That will never be true," Cinderella murmured. "I love you."

Eugene smiled, and he essayed her a courtly bow before he turned to go. Cinderella kept her eyes on him, her gaze following his dignified steps until he was outt of sight.

Only then did she pick up the folders of her gown in her hands and begin to climb the steps to where Constance waited for in silence.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Constance," Cinderella said. "But I'm ready now."

"It's no trouble at all, ma'am," Constance replied. "If you'll please follow me."

Cinderella found that the closer they got to the top of the Queen's tower the more she recognised, probably because all the routes which led down to the various different parts of the palace converged, on the way up, into a single staircase which, though it might lead to many landings on its upward way, ultimately led in only one direction and to only one place. And so Cinderella followed Constance up the stairs which turned round and round, past landing after landing, having to take a slow pace lest she arrive before her ladies panting and staining her lovely gown with sweat.

Constance didn't have very much to say. Or rather, whatever she had to say in general she had nothing to say to Cinderella. Cinderella expected nothing different. Hers had not been the most conventional service, but she understood that much about the gulf between 'abovestairs' and 'below'; it was a consequence of her elevation, the gap between the princess and the chambermaid was too great for mere words to bridge even if Cinderella had wanted them too. Duchamp was dear, and in her brief pre-marital stay Cinderella had found no reason to complain of Constance or Paulette's diligence, but they were not her friends nor could they be. If she wished for friendship - and she did, she wished for it so much - then she would have to find it amongst the ladies who waited for her at the top of these stairs.

Constance reached the door to Cinderella's suite of rooms and turned aside. "Here we are, ma'am."

"Thank you very much, Constance," Cinderella said. "I'd have gotten hopelessly lost without you, they'd have had to send out a search party to find me."

Constance didn't laugh, or even smiled. "Is there anything else, ma'am?"

"No," Cinderella said. "I'll ring if I need anything."

"Of course, ma'am; we are at your service."

Cinderella approached the door with trepidation in her steps. Aside from Angelique, whom she had met all of once, and Marinette Gerard whose name she knew but whom she had never met, Cinderella didn't know the names of any of the ladies waiting on the other side. She had some hopes of Serena and Grace, her friends, but she didn't know if they had accepted, or even if requests had been made to them. His Majesty had made most of the arrangements without reference to her.

 _Will we get on? Will I like them?_

 _Will they approve of me, the scullery maid who became a princess?_

There was only one way to find out. Cinderella reached out one hand, adorned with a pair of glittering rings, and opened the door.

"Here she is! Here she is! Welcome back!"

"Serena!" Cinderella exclaimed in delight, as almost before she had made her way through the door there the other woman was, dear Serena, sounding so happy to see her. "And Grace, you're both here."

"Well of course we are," Grace declared fondly. "Oh, you silly goose, you didn't think that we'd say anything but yes when asked, did you?"

Whatever Cinderella might have said was drowned by a cough so loud that it could only have been meant as a signal of some kind, coming from one of the other ladies in room.

 _Oh dear, have I done something wrong already?_

Serena and Grace looked a little put out, but nevertheless they drew back from Cinderella to stand as part of a line of all the ladies - there were six of them in total - running diagonally across the bedroom. Serena was the tallest of them, if only by a little, and Angelique the smallest by some considerable way. They did not curtsy all at once, in synchronised fashion, but nevertheless managed to do it at roughly the same time. Angelique's was noticeably clumsy, but Cinderella was pleased to see that nobody commented on it, and she certainly did not intend to.

"Welcome home, your highness," they said.

"Oh, please, there's no need for that," Cinderella said, with a wave of one hand. She clasped both her hands in front of her below the waist, and she could feel the cold of her bracelets where they each touched the skin of both her arms. "I...I want to thank you all for agreeing to come here and...and stay with me and keep me company. I..." her mouth felt so dry. "I'm looking forward to spending time with all of you, and I so want for us to be friends and so I'd please like you very much to call me Cinderella, and nothing else. And now, I'm afraid that I don't know all of you, and so if you wouldn't mind introducing yourselves..."

"Of course, your-" the first of them stopped halfway through the honorific. She smiled self-deprecatingly. "I mean, of course Cinderella. My name is Mademoiselle Augustina du Bois, daughter of General Pierre du Bois." Augustina was a little taller than Cinderella, but not by very much, with skin as white as snow and hair as black as ebony wood tied into a sharp, tight but at the nape of her neck. Her mouth was small and currently painted in lavender, while her eyes were a dark brown like wood that had already begun to burn.

"I'm very pleased to meet you Augustina," Cinderella said.

"I am Mademoiselle Theodora Mercedes de la Tour, daughter of Colonel and Madame de la Tour," declared Theodora. She was about Cinderella's height, and might even have been a little smaller than Cinderella was, with soft brown hair emerging in curls from behind her head to rest upon her shoulder. Her eyes were blue and bright, and her nose was a little long and sharply pointed.

"Thank you Theodora, it's a pleasure."

"I'm Marinette, I mean, my name is Mademoiselle Marinette Gerard, um, daughter of Madame Gerard." Marinette's head was bowed, as if she as afraid to meet Cinderella's gaze, or just afraid of Cinderella, the poor thing. She seemed small, and smaller seeming because of the way she hunched her shoulders, but she also seemed like a pretty young thing with lovely hair. Cinderella couldn't yet see her eyes.

She remembered what Lucien had told her, about how Marinette didn't get out of the house much, how she was oppressed by Colonel Gerard (unintentionally, but still) and in dire need of company, and she wanted so much to put her at her ease. Cinderella put as much warmth into her voice as she could and said, "Of course, Marinette, thank you for being here. Lucien has told me so much about you."

Marinette looked up, and Cinderella saw that she had pretty eyes of hazel in a pleasant doe-eyed shape. "He has?"

Cinderella smiled. "I'm sure that we'll be great friends." She looked to Angelique, whom someone had clearly dressed up in Cinderella's absence, as well as winding her golden hair into curls. It had the effect of making her look younger than she had when dressed in filthy rags, although Cinderella thought her years were still there in her eyes, which regarded Cinderella warily. "And Angelique, how are you settling in?"

"I'm doing alright," Angelique said softly.

"We both have a lot to learn," Cinderella said. "I hope we can help each other along the way." She looked back across the line to her first human friends in years. "And Serena and Grace, it's lovely to see you again. Now, rather than standing here all day shall we go into the sitting room? And have some tea?"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Grace said. "Your throat must be as dry as a desert after that long carriage ride."

"Not quite, but I am a little thirsty," Cinderella admitted, as she gave the bell-pull hanging by the bed a little tug.

It did not take long for Paulette to come in. The second of Cinderella's chamber-maids had a snub nose and dirty-blonde hair, the fringe of which was just about visible under her cap. She curtsied to the assembly. "You rang, Your Highness?"

"Yes, Paulette," Cinderella said. "Could we have some tea, please?"

"Of course, ma'am. And anything else?"

"Cakes," said Grace.

"Scones," said Theodora at the same time.

"Both," said Serena after just a moment.

Paulette glanced at Cinderella, who nodded. "Yes, both cakes and scones if that's not too much trouble."

"It's no trouble at all, ma'am," Paulette said, and her expression had not changed from the moment she stepped into the room: professionally inscrutable. "They'll be sent up directly."

She curtsied again, and backed out of the doorway before she closed it behind her.

"There, won't that be lovely," Cinderella said, and much as it may have sounded like an empty phrase to fill up the space, the truth was that she meant it. Cinderella did hope that it would be lovely, if only because...because she'd never had an opportunity to have tea with friends before. She had waited on Anastasia and Drizella's gatherings with their constantly diminishing circle of friends, whom they gradually alienated with their jealousy and cruelty until they had none left at all, and when she did she had felt, as she had so often felt in that house, that the jealousy of her stepmother was entirely misplaced: she was jealous of them, and had more cause to be than the other way round. Jealous of their friends, jealous of their social circle. Yes, she had her mice and her birds they were such sweet dears and so faithful to her no matter what, but...but it wasn't the same somehow.

For so long she had so wanted some human friends, to have them to tea and other such ladylike things; she hoped so much that it wasn't a disappointment.

"Shall we go into the sitting room?" she asked.

Cinderella felt the gold lame of Serena's sleeve rubbing smoothly against her skin as the other girl took her by the arm and hand both, slipping one arm thorugh the crook of Cinderella's even as she took Cinderella's hand in hers and began to steer her into the sitting room like a pilot ship.

"You look so beautiful today," Serena said. "This dress, those pearls, that crown they all suit you so well. You are a vision of loveliness."

Cinderella's free hand touched her heart. "Serena, if you make me blush much more my makeup will melt from the heat."

Serena giggled.

It swiftly became clear that there were not quite enough chairs in the sitting room, so Cinderella made a note to have more brought in as soon as possible as everyone sat down where they could. Serena guided Cinderella to a two-seat settee of green velvet, where she held onto Cinderella's arm as she sat down beside her. Her fingers played with the pearl bracelet clasped there, nudging it first this way and then the other. Grace pouted a little at the sight, and chose no seat but sat down on top of the piano of dark wood that dominate the left hand side of the room. Her feet, clad in scarlet slippers, could be seen in glances dangling down beneath her equally scarlet dress and layers of petticoats. Theodora grabbed a plump blue armchair not far from the settee on which Cinderella sat, getting there one step ahead of Augustina who had to settle for a wooden chair with a red cushion not far from the piano. Marinette and Angelique ended up the furthest away from Cinderella, Marinette on an uncushioned wooden chair and Angelique upon a plump scarlet stood, with the effect that she was made to look even smaller by comparison to everyone else than she already was.

"So, Cinderella," Serena said as she leaned forwards. "How was the honeymoon?"

Cinderella sighed as a fond smile settled upon her lips. "Oh, it was lovely, it was a dream come true. To be Eugene's wife...I still can't believe how lucky I am."

"Luck?" Grace said. "You think it was luck? I call it the best woman winning."

"My father says we make our own luck by doing the hard work beforehand," Augustina declared.

"And having read your story in the papers," Theodora said. "You have certainly done the hard work."

Cinderella wasn't entirely sure how she was meant to take that. "I suppose I have, Theodora-"

"Oh, please Cindy, call me Theo."

"Um, Cindy?"

Theodora's eyes were wide with innocence. "Or do you prefer Ella?"

Cinderella tried to think of a polite way of saying that she preferred Cinderella, if it was all the same to her. When she was a girl she had been called Ella sometimes, and her mother hadn't much cared for it. 'There are thousands of Ellas in the world,' she had once said. 'But there is only one Cinderella, and that's my daughter'. No one had ever called her Cindy before, to her recollection.

But she didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with Theodora - Theo - if she could avoid it. Quite the opposite, in fact, and so she murmured. "No, that's fine."

"Although why you'd want to butcher a perfectly good name eludes me," Serena said pointedly. "But then it isn't as though you don't have form in that regard."

Theo sniffed. "Just because you didn't like Reeny doesn't mean that everyone hates the idea of having their name abbreviated. Anyway, Cindy, you were about to say something."

"I..." Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "I'm afraid I can't remember."

Theo laughed, a sort of snorting sound mingled with high-pitched giggling.

"Perhaps," Augustina said. "You were about to say that, after half a life of scrubbing pots, the challenges of dancing and dressing well hold no terrors for you."

Cinderella shook her head. "Oh no, Augustina, I would never think that." She bowed her head just a little. "Quite the opposite, really."

"The opposite?" Grace said. "Cinderella, whatever do you mean."

Cinderella's smile was touched by sadness. "When I was a girl, when my father passed away, I was learning how to be a lady. I had tuition in playing the piano, flute and violin, as well as singing and dancing. I learnt German, English and Spanish as well as French, and how to write well in all of them. I could...now I doubt I could even remember how to read music, let alone play anything; and if any of you said something in German to me I wouldn't understand it. For years I learnt how to be a servant instead of lady, and now I need to be a lady again, and more than a lady...I'm afraid I don't know how. The only things I still remember how to do are sing and dance."

"And walk between raging mobs and muskets, apparently," Augustina remarked. "I was very impressed by that when I read it, for all the newspaper was not."

"They weren't really a raging mob, and I wasn't doing it to impress anyone," Cinderella said. "I was just trying to do the right thing."

"All the more impressive," Augutina replied. "No matter what else you may be, Cinderella, nobody can deny that you're brave."

"Oh, thank you...but is being brave enough?"

"No," Augustina conceded. "But the rest...most it can be learnt. And in many cases: history, etiquette, politics, that sort of thing; I doubt you'll be given much choice whether to learn it or not."

"And for the rest," Grace murmured, as she leaned down and tinkled a few keys on the piano. "I'm sure that we can help you, if you'd like?"

"Oh, would you? Would you really?"

"Of course we would, Cinderella, do you even have to ask?" Grace replied. "After all, what else are friends for?"

* * *

Against the skin of her neck, Cinderella could feel the texture of both pearls and diamonds, and even through the silk of her her glove she could feel the diamonds' texture against her fingertips.

"They're beautiful, Duchamp," she murmured. "But are you sure that it isn't too much?"

"To me, ma'am, it looks just right," Duchamp replied.

Cinderella was able to admit to herself that she found her ladies-maid convincing in part because she wished to be convinced. They were very beautiful necklaces...she just wasn't sure if wearing three of them at once was going a bit too far.

But they were beautiful. First was a single string pearl choker, a little line of modestly sized pearls coiled tightly around her throat, halfway up to her chin. Below that, a diamond necklace, almost a choker but not quite as tight around Cinderella's neck, resting coolly on her collarbone; and then, last of all, another string of pearls swooping down towards the neckline of her gown, with a sapphire the size of a duck's egg, set in silver, dangling from the point at which the two sides met and resting on her breastbone just below the collar.

It looked lovely, in her eyes; but would it make her look vulgar to the more sophisticated? Cinderella considered sending for Serena and Grace to ask them for their more worldly opinions, but...well, she didn't really want her friends to know that she was uncertain about this sort of thing. And it would be a frightful bother to put them through just to ask them what they thought of her jewellery. They might even think that she was showing off, and Cinderella didn't want that at all.

She'd have to rely upon her own judgement, and her own judgement was...that they were beautiful.

Cinderella smiled. "Thank you, Duchamp, this is all lovely. Thank you so much for all your help, I couldn't have done this without you."

If she had no magically conjured dress for this, the second ball of Cinderella's life, then she could at least content herself with the knowledge that she was clad in one of Lucrecia's very best creations. Her gown was white, as so many of them seemed to be, and simple in its elegance, with barely a trace of decoration or ornamentation to detract from the simple lines of form-embracing bodice or the broad A-line of the skirt. Only a modest peplum of almost sheer fabric, sparkling slightly with the glimmering of stitched in moonstones, and a pair of loose white bows set upon the shoulders, detracted in any way from the simplicity of the dress. The neckline descended from her shoulders in a classic V shape, stopping before any more than a hint of anything immodest could be revealed. A pair of opera length gloves of white silk covered up most of her arms, leaving only a little exposed below the shoulder. One splash of colour, however, had Cinderella added to the snowy field that was her gorgeous gown: a corsage of six pink roses, resting on red ribbon, pinned to her gown down the neckline on the left.

Though she had washed her hair with sweet-smelling lotions before dressing for the ball, said hair was now arranged in precisely the same style that it had occupied throughout the day: the elegant twist piled atop her head, falling like a wave upon the white silk hairband that embraced her head down to the large round earrings that obscured her ears, and from which a pair of teardrop pearls descended. Cinderella had retained also her same tiara of the day: the spindly silver set with sapphires. A pair of roses - real roses this time, not silk imitations as with her corsages - one red and one white, intertwined with one another, were woven in her hair, pinned in place beneath the silken hairband on the left hand side of Cinderella's face.

On Cinderella's right arm she wore diamonds and sapphires, stacked upwards some way towards her elbow, starting with the lovely bracelet that Eugene had given her before the wedding closest to her wrist, then a sapphire bracelet set in silver, then another diamond bracelet only three diamonds wide but each of them a little larger than on the first bracelet, and lastly a bracelet of sapphires and diamonds intermingled, the diamonds embracing the sapphires as they looped together around her arm. Her precious rings of marriage sat on her finger as the candle-light reflected off them.

On her left arm, by contrast, Cinderella wore little in the way of jewels, only a sapphire ring upon the ring finger of that hand; her arms instead was covered by a corsage of six white roses, with white orchid and babies' breath, bound to her wrist with...well, the corsage was set on diamonds, but that wasn't really the point, and hardly anyone would see them anyway.

Duchamp inclined her head gravely. "If you are satisfied ma'am, then I am satisfied. Will there be anything else?"

"No, Duchamp, I don't think so," Cinderella said. She twisted round on the stool to look up at her ladies' maid with a smile. "I suppose you're going to get some sleep until I need you again." When Cinderella had been a servant - it felt so strange to put a whole recent phase of her life behind her in such a way - she had helped get Anastasia and Drizella ready for their balls and galas and then, once they had left, it had been her habit to grab a few hours sleep even if that meant going to bed early, in the knowledge that she would have to get up again when they came home and needed help getting undressed and ready for bed, after which there would only be a scant few hours before morning chores.

Duchamp's lips turned upwards ever so slightly. "I was planning to, Ma'am; but I can wait here until His Highness arrives."

"Oh, that won't be necessary Duchamp," Cinderella replied. "You've done so much already, and Eugene will be here soon. I don't need to be minded every moment."

"No, Ma'am, but since you've given Constance and Paulette the night off, and with so many employed by the ball, there will be no one to attend to you here if you need anything."

Cinderella had given her two chambermaids the night off because, since she was going to be dancing the night away down in the ballroom, it had seemed pointless to keep Constance and Paulette up in this tower when they could be enjoying themselves just as Cinderella would be doing.

Cinderella smiled, and her voice had a touch of laughter to it. "I'll be fine for ten minutes, Duchamp; Eugene will be here then." Eugene had said he would come and get her at half-past seven, and it was now twenty-past already. "Go, Duchamp, get some rest; and thank you, once again."

"Always a pleasure, ma'am," Duchamp said. She curtsied, and retreated out of the room.

"So many people," Jaq said as he scurried out of the mouse hold under the dressing table. He kept talking as he scrambled up the table leg and onto the surface. "Wesa worried that they never gonna leave Cinderelly alone." He swept his hat off his head as he offered an elaborate bow. "Welcome home, Princess Cinderelly."

"Yeah, welcome home, Cinderelly," the other mice said as they followed their leader and unacknowledged chief out of the mouse hole, to either climb up the table legs to stand beside him or else to gather around the hem of Cinderella's gown.

"Where d'you go, Cinderelly?" Gus asked.

"Gus!" Perla groaned in exasperation. "Cinderelly on her honeymoon, remember?"

"Wassa honeymoon?"

Perla groaned even louder than before.

Cinderella giggled as she bent down and offered out her hands to the mice still on the floor. They climbed into her offered palms, and she lifted them up and placed them on the dressing table where they didn't have to shout so loud. [i]Welcome home.[/i] It wasn't the first time that had been said to her today, far from it, but...but it was perhaps the first time that Cinderella could wholeheartedly accept it, because if this was home for her dear friends who had stuck with her through so much, then...then it must be true.

"None of you ever need to call me princess," she said. "Not one of you, not ever."

"Howsa honeymoon, Cinderelly?"

"Why all dressed up, Cinderelly?"

"Cinderelly lookin' real pretty-pretty," Gus said.

"Pretty?" Jaq exclaimed. "Cinderelly lookin' most beautiful of all."

Cinderella put one hand, or her fingertips at least, to her heart, and mimed a curtsy-ish motion as she offered Jaq her other hand. "Why, thank you Jaq," she said, as Jaq kissed her fingertips. "There's a ball being held tonight, to celebrate our homecoming." Cinderella glanced at the clock on the wall. "Eugene's coming at half-past seven to escort me down to the ballroom."

Jaq looked glum. "Notta lotta time then."

Cinderella stroked his cheek with her thumb. "Don't worry Jaq, I'll make time for us in the next few days, I promise. And in the meantime," she opened one of the drawers of the dressing table to reveal new clothes, jackets in the style of the royal guard for the men and ballgowns fashioned after the beautiful dress her fairy godmother had made for Cinderella for the ladies. "I've got homecoming presents for all of you!" She began to hand on jackets, dresses, shoes and even little shakoes that she had made. "And Jaq, I promised you a replacement jacket, didn't I?" she handed him a scarlet jacket, like his old one but with miniature brass buttons, and a touch of gold thread on the shoulders, so that he looked almost like a general leading an army into battle.

The mice admiration for their new clothes, and Cinderella's providing a brief sketch of the events of the honeymoon, carried them until half-past seven at which point - no Eugene.

"Well, there are a lot of stairs up here," Cinderella said. "I'm sure he'll come get me soon."

Seven-thirty turned into twenty to eight, and then into ten minutes to eight, and stll no sign of Eugene come to take her dancing. While this allowed her to spend more time telling the mice all about her honeymoon, and even to briefly mention some of what had gone on at the wedding - without going into too much detail, she didn't want them to worry - as ten minutes to eight started turning into five minutes to eight Cinderella began to grow a little concerned. Where was Eugene? Why hadn't he come for her?

What was she supposed to do now?

"Thinka princey's alright, Cinderelly?" Jaq asked.

"Oh, I'm sure he is," Cinderella replied. After all, Eugene's concerns had wholly been focussed outside of the palace, not inside. And if anything had happened to him then someone would have told her before now; she was his wife, after all. "Something is just delaying him, that's all."

But delaying him for how long? And what was Cinderella supposed to do in that time? She was going to be late for her own ball at this rate. Cinderella got up, and was about to ring for someone to come and show her the way, before she remembered that Duchamp had gone to bed and she had given Constance and Paulette the night off, and everyone else was already elsewhere, making the ball a success. Even her ladies in waiting would probably be down in the ballroom by now.

There was only Cinderella, marooned up in her tower like Rapunzel with shoulder-length hair.

"Whatcha gonna do, Cinderelly?" Jaq murmured.

Cinderella picked up the folds of her skirt in her hands. "Well, if Eugene won't come to me I'll just have to go to him. After all, how hard can it be to find a giant ballroom?"

The answer, as it turned out, was harder than you might think. By the time Cinderella realised that she had taken a wrong turn somewhere in the labyrinthine palace, she had already taken several other turns on top of that, and then she must have taken at least one other wrong turn trying to retrace her steps so now she couldn't even find her way back to where she'd started from. The result was that instead of dazzling in the ballroom, Cinderella found herself standing in a dark, unlit corridor that she probably couldn't have recognised even in daylight, with a row of bookshelves crawling up the high ceiling upon one wall and a suit of amour glowering at her like a brooding sentinel standing at the far end of the corridor.

Cinderella had no idea where she was, or how to get to where she wanted to go.

"Hello," she called out, hoping that there was someone - a servant, a guard, anyone - in hearing range who could show her the way. "Can anyone hear me? I'm afraid I'm lost. Can anyone please show me to the ballroom?"

There was no answer.

Cinderella walked a little further down the corridor, until she stood in the very middle of it. "Hello," she tried again. "It's...it's Princess Cinderella. Please, can anybody help me?"

There was no answer...wait, no, Cinderella could hear something. It was faint, but it was coming from behind her.

"Hello, is someone there?" Cinderella asked hopefully.

There was no response. In the darkness it was impossible to see...was there someone there? Was that a darker patch of shadow? Or had Cinderella imagined the whole thing?

Cinderella shivered a little. She wanted very much to get out of here. Not even to the ballroom, just somewhere else, somewhere there were people. She took a step forward. "Hello?"

"Cinderella?"

Cinderella whirled around with a gasp to find a man standing behind her. A man with a familiar voice, and as he struck a match to light one of the candles in a sconce set on the wall, Cinderella could see that he had a familiar boyish countenance as well. "Lucien?"

He smiled. He was dressed in what looked like a very new blue suit, with an orange rose worn in his buttonhole. "I'm flattered that you remember me."

Cinderella laughed. "Of course I remember you, how could I forget?"

Lucien looked very pleased at that for a moment. He took her hand, firmly in his grasp, and raised it to his lips. He lingered for a while, as if didn't want to let her go, and even his kiss upon her hand lingered too long to be called perfunctory. "It's always a delight to see you again, but what are you doing here, in the dark all alone? So beautiful as you look tonight, should you not be where all eyes will be upon you?"

"I...I got lost," Cinderella admitted. "I was trying to find the ballroom. Where are we?"

"A long way from the ballroom," Lucien replied. "An unimportant corridor in a very unimportant part of the palace."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I like the quiet, sometimes," Lucien said. "I come here to think."

He sighed, and Cinderella noticed that he looked more tired than she remembered. He had dark circles under his eyes, and when his smile faded...he looked troubled.

"Is everything alright?" she asked tenderly. "No, I know it isn't. What's wrong."

Lucien shook his head. "It is not for me to burden the princess with my troubles."

Cinderella moved closer to him, and put one hand upon his arm. "I'm not your princess, I'm your friend; and I've already spent too long doing nothing but share out my troubles and ignoring everyone else's. What's the matter, Lucien? Tell me, and maybe I can help you."

Lucien looked at her for a moment, and then looked away. "I doubt you can help me."

"Try me."

Lucien blinked. "Money is the root of all my concerns. I have so many plans and ambitions, but never enough money to build on them before my debts come due. And my creditors, they hound me relentlessly. They are more like dogs than men, they give me no peace. Their harassment keeps me up at night, worrying what they might do to Marinette or my mother, if-"

"Don't worry about Marinette," Cinderella said. "She's safe with me. And as for the rest..." she turned over her arm and began to fumble at the diamond and sapphire bracelet that was the last upon it. She struggled with the clasp with only one hand. "Would you help me with this please?"

Lucien looked puzzled, but swiftly undid the clasp and held the bracelet out to her.

"No," Cinderella said. "You take it. It has to be worth some money, doesn't it?"

"Some money?" Lucien repeated. "It's worth a fortune."

"Then it will help?"

"Yes, but...but I can't take it."

"Why not?" Cinderella asked. "I have others. So many others that you wouldn't believe. It will do more good with you."

"I-"

"No arguments," Cinderella said primly. "It's yours now."

Lucien's mouth opened a little. "You are as generous as an angel, and as lovely."

Cinderella chuckled. "No, I'm just a girl who has been very lucky, and who has a chance to share her good fortune. Now, as you seem to know your way around the palace better than I do, could you please show me the way to the ballroom?"

Lucien smiled brilliantly, his whole face seemed to light up as he offered her his arm. "Certainly, Cinderella; if you will only take my arm then I shall lead you straight to it."

 _Well, this is interesting,_ Serena thought to herself, as she watched the princess disappear around the corner...arm in arm with Lucien Gerard.

It had been a sudden impulse that had made Serena decide to follow Cinderella in a discreet fashion. Or, fairer to say, it had been the same impulse that meant that she had still been in her room long after all the other ladies in waiting of their little band had departed for the ballroom: she had claimed that she needed more time to get ready, but the truth was that she needed some time to herself, to be herself, without having to wear the tiring mask that she had chosen to put on for the princess' benefit and, thus, had to maintain in public at all times lest word of her two faces reached the princess' ears.

It was hard work being sweetness and light all the time, especially around people who actually merited nothing but the most cutting of retorts.

And so, when she had seen Cinderella going down the stairs, alone, with no Prince Eugene in sight, Serena had not had the inclination in that moment to approach her, to become Cinderella's best friend, her supporter and her font of praise. Instead, she had followed from a distance while Cinderella was unaware.

It had been rather amusing, watching her bumble about and get lost in her own palace. Unfortunately Cinderella had worked out that she was there, and Serena had been in real danger of discovery if Lucien Gerard hadn't made an appearance. Fortunately for Serena he had, and he had distracted Cinderella completely what was more.

And so Serena had been able to observe their interaction, and what interaction it was. It was clear that Lucien desired her, Serena only had to watch the way he took her hand, the way he kissed it, the way that his motions were drawn out with longing to work that out. It was, she felt, a testament to Cinderella's remarkable naivete - that was the charitable word for it, a less charitable word would be stupidity - that she couldn't see it for herself. And as Lucien led her away, his eyes were fixed on Cinderella even as Cinderella looked ahead.

She felt sorry for him, really. For both of them, in some ways, but moreso for poor Lucien; she didn't know the younger Gerard very well, but her brother Anatole did and he seemed to like Lucien well enough. He was amused by him, certainly. And in truth, watching them walk arm in arm, they made a handsome pair. The rake and the gutter rat, he was far closer to Cinderella's natural level than the Prince of Armorique.

 _You should have settled for a man like him, Cinderella; you might even have been happy together. You don't deserve Prince Eugene, and you won't be enjoying him forever if I have anything to say about it._

And in Lucien's desire, in poor, indebted, feckless Lucien's inappropriate desire for the new princess of the realm, Serena had found the idea weapon for Cinderella's destruction when the time came.

Not that Cinderella returned, or was even aware of, Lucien's adulterous ambitions. Doubltess little miss goody glass-slippers would go down with a case of the vapors if anyone suggested she would have an affair with another man. But the truth was, of course, irrelevant. What mattered was what people believed. And if people believed that Cinderella was having an affair, that she even might be having an affair...it would be the ruin of her.

In such a context, a diamond bracelet generously could easily be reframed as a token of love; especially if it were followed by other gifts - which it probably would be, knowing Lucien Gerard's reputation - to support the narrative. Meeting alone in dark back-corridors didn't look very good either.

Not that Serena desired to act immediately, she hadn't even begun to wring advantage out of Cinderella's friendship yet, but when she did, when she tired of lovely Cinderella and her silly fears...then she would have everything she needed.

Serena turned to go. She didn't want to miss the ball.

* * *

 _Author's Note: There are probably more anachronisms in this chapter than in all the preceding chapters put together, starting with Eugene giving Cinderella all of that money. I did that for a good story reason: because otherwise she would have to ask Eugene for money, and lie to him about why (because you know who's going to be helping her spend it, don't you?) and I didn't like that, it felt false to the character. So now she has her funds to waste on spongers._

 _Also, corsages. I'm not a fashion historian, but wikipedia assures me that they only appeared in the 20thC. But, on the other hand:_

 _they're cute_

 _There is official art from Disney of Cinderella wearing a corsage_

 _None of the lavishly described costumes or jewellery are historically accurate. The fact is most of the jewellery comes from googling and most of the dresses come from an annual wedding expo held in my local shopping centre (that, in case you were wondering, is one of the reasons why Cinderella wears white so often; the other reason is simply that I think it looks good on her)._

 _Eugene's ducal title and income are derived from Britain, where the Prince of Wales is also Duke of Cornwall and enjoys substantial revenues from the lands and holdings therein._

 _Writing Lucien is quite difficult because I want his feelings to be clear to you, the readers, but opaque to Cinderella without making her look like an idiot. I don't think he was quite forward enough with her here, but I don't think I could improve it. This chapter originally opened with a little Lucien scene but I got rid of it because it didn't add anything that hadn't already been established: Lucien's desire for Cinderella and his somewhat decadent lifestyle._

 _Nevertheless, I like Lucien a lot more than I liked Kilpatrick in Sunset…, who I allowed to become far too rapey for reasons that are less than clear even to myself. I hope that you all agree that this is an improvement._

 _More rose symbolism:_

 _Lucien's orange rose: Desire_

 _White: innocence, purity, charm_

 _Pink: grace, gentleness, sweetness._

 _Both Cinderella's corsages contain six roses, signifying a need to be loved and cherished. The red and white rose intertwined in her hair denote unity._


	15. Tied to Her Fortunes

Tied to Her Fortunes

"How was your honeymoon?" Lucien asked, as he led Cinderella through corridors she did not recognise on her way to the ballroom.

"Completely wonderful," Cinderella sighed. "Eugene was so kind and charming and so attentive to me, and the Summer Palace was so beautiful and...oh, Lucien, it was perfect."

Lucien chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Cinderella asked.

"I was just thinking about when we first met," Lucien replied. "You looked so melancholy, and sounded so forlorn that not even your impending marriage could raise your spirits. And yet look at you now, a-glow with happiness."

"I know," Cinderella murmured. "I...I let myself get so worked up about so many things then, as though...it was almost as though I didn't trust Eugene, I didn't want to let myself believe that his kindness was real, that his love was real. So silly of me."

"You trust him now?"

"Yes," Cinderella said. "Yes, a hundred times over. He loves me, and I'll never..."

"Never...?"

"I was going to say that I would never doubt it again," Cinderella said softly. "But that probably isn't true. But...but now I know where my doubts come from, and I won't let them stop me from trusting my husband, or my friends."

Lucien smiled. "I am glad to hear that all is well with you now, joy becomes you so much more than sadness ever could."

Cinderella chuckled. "Yes, all is very well. If only..."

"If only?" Lucien asked.

"Oh, it's nothing," Cinderella said quickly, looking away from him for a moment as they walked. "I shouldn't bother you with such small things."

"Cinderella, though it be as small as a needle's pinprick I would hear it," Lucien declared. "If you will only confide in me then I vow that I will leave no stone unturned to lighten your burden."

"It's not a burden," Cinderella explained. "It's just...Eugene, he...he's keeping something from me. Something that he found out during our honeymoon, something that bothered him. I wish that he'd let me help him, let me share his worries; we're married, that's what we're meant to do. I suppose it shouldn't bother me, I kept secrets from him, but...well, I trusted him with all of them, in the end, and he-"

"He doesn't trust you," Lucien said.

Cinderella frowned. "You make that sound much worse than it is."

Lucien hesitated for a moment. "Perhaps. I admit that I've always thought of trust as something that is there or not but, perhaps there are degrees in it. I am sure he trusts you for the most part. If he did not, how could he love you?"

"I'm sure he has a good reason, just as I did," Cinderella replied. "It's only one secret, and I'm certain Eugene is doing what he thinks is right."

"I'm sure you're right," Lucien replied. "Just one secret."

 _Unless it is more than that._ Cinderella swiftly dismissed that thought from her mind as swiftly as it had risen from the murky depths of consciousness. It was only one secret, that letter that had arrived to so alter Eugene's mood at the end of the honeymoon. That was all he kept from her, the idea of him keeping anything else was ludicrous. The idea of Prince Eugene needing to coneal anything else from her was utterly ridiculous. What need would Eugene have to conceal anything from her?

It wasn't even worth thinking about.

Lucien led her to a place where light could be seen pouring around the corner, chasing the shadows away even as the sounds of chatter and good cheer, not far off, shattered the silence that had prevailed around them as Lucien took her through the dark back-corridors of the palace.

"Here we are," Lucien declared. "Turn that corner and the ballroom doors will be at the other end of the room."

"You're not going to lead me the rest of the way? Aren't you coming to the ball?" Cinderella asked. She chuckled. "What if I get lost again?"

Lucien laughed. "It is impossible to get lost from here on, I promise. Believe me, Cinderella, I wouldn't miss your coming out as a princess for a thousand diamond bracelets. But, though I would gladly escort you into the ballroom itself, I hate to think what my brother would do to me if he saw us together."

Cinderella looked at him a little sternly. "You must be being too hard on him, Lucien. You make Colonel Gerard sound like such an ogre."

"If you grew up with him, you would understand," Lucien said. "How is Marinette, by the way?"

"She was...quiet, today," Cinderella said. "I'm sure she just needs time to come out of her shell."

"Of course. How could she not bloom in the light of your sun?"

"Oh, stop it," Cinderella murmured. She smiled at him. "Thank you, Lucien, without you I could have been wandering those corridors for days."

Lucien released her arm from his hold, and stepped backwards to bow to her. "To do a service to a beautiful woman is no hardship at all."

"Well, thank you anyway," Cinderella said, and she rose up on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

Lucien went one better, and kissed her on both cheeks in turn. "Goodbye for now, Cinderella."

Cinderella curtsied to him, and then turned away as she made her way to the end of the corridor and turned the corner suffused with light.

It was exactly as Lucien had said, there were a pair of wide double doors at the other end of the sparse room, and from those doors ajar the light was shining and the noise was coming. There was little else in the room between, but there was Eugene, dressed in his cream uniform with red trousers - Cinderella wondered idly what uniform that was, since it was so very different to his dragoon uniform - pacing back and forth before the doors.

"Eugene!" Cinderella cried, and her steps quickened almost of their own accord in her eagerness to reach him. "I'm so sorry I'm late, I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

Eugene grinned. "Darling, I don't think you're the one who ought to be apologising. I'm sorry I wasn't there at half-past seven, Father needed my help with something urgently and by the time I got away and went to your room...you were gone. I didn't know where you were."

"I was trying to find my way here," Cinderella admitted. "When you didn't come I thought that I should come to you...but I got lost on the way."

Eugene laughed. "Well, at least you found it in the end."

"With some help, yes," Cinderella said. "Lucien was kind enough to show me the way."

"Lucien Gerard?" Eugene asked. "Where is he now, then?"

"I'm not sure," Cinderella replied. "He said he'd find another way to the ballroom. I think he's a little scared of his brother."

That prompted another laugh from Eugene. "I daresay he is, but I suppose I should thank him when I see him again. I was getting worried about you."

"We're both here now," Cinderella said. "So it's alright, isn't it?"

"Yes, it certainly is," Eugene said, before he took her hands in his and kissed her on the lips. "You look stunning."

 _And just you saying that makes it all worthwhile,_ Cinderella thought, as she beamed at him in silent reply. "Shall we go in?"

"I'd be delighted," Eugene replied, as he took her by the hand and led her into the ballroom.

* * *

The staff of the Master of Ceremonies struck the floor with a thud that echoed across the ballroom, even as his voice carried across the floor. "Their Royal Highnesses!"

All eyes on the floor, from the musicians attending to their instruments to the servants carrying trays laden with drinks, to the gowned and suited lords and ladies gathering in cliques about the edges of the dance floor, turned to look at the stairs at the far end of the ballroom as Prince Eugene and Princess Cinderella descended the red-carpeted stairs, hand in hand.

"She's very beautiful, isn't she?" Jean whispered in awestruck admiration as the prince and princess descended onto the floor.

"She's very rich," Angelique said, watching the way that the light from the high chandeliers glistened off of all those diamonds and sapphires on her arms and round her neck. So many jewels, and when she thought of those pearls that the princess had been wearing earlier in the day…God alone knew how many more precious stones she had stored away in a box somewhere.

"You're being too hard on her," Jean said. "It isn't her riches that make her beautiful, it's herself."

Angeliqe shook her head. "Every artifice that money can buy is enhancing her looks because she – or her husband – has the money to buy it."

"Perhaps," Jean allowed. "But only because she has beauty to enhance in the first place. You could spend that much money on a monkey, you could drape diamonds and pearls around its neck, but you wouldn't make anybody want to kiss it."

Angelique snorted at the mental image. "Probably not," she conceded. And…well, yes, he was right, wasn't he? As much Angelique might look with scepticism upon Cinderella's display of opulence, she was undeniably a beautiful young woman. Angelique watched her as she walked down the stairs: her arms were held at perfect angles, wrists and elbows bending just so, holding the prince's hand just so, holding her dress out so she did not trip over it just so, all combining to give her an air of grace that clung to her more strongly than any perfume.

 _She certainly knows how to present herself, I'll give her that much._

"Angelique," Jean murmured. "One of your curls has come undone." He reached for a loose strand of pale hair hanging down the sound of her temple.

Angelique batted his hand away gently. "I did that myself, on purpose."

Jean frowned. "Why?"

Angelique shrugged. "Because I liked it. Does it look awful?"

"No," Jean said. "It looks…very distinctive."

Angelique grinned. "Good. That's exactly what I was going for." She coughed into her hand.

"Are you alright, Angelique?" Jean asked.

"I'm fine."

"You've had that cough for a few weeks now, since before the royal wedding."

"I'm fine," Angelique repeated. "It's just a cough. I get a dry throat sometimes."

Jean nodded, even if he seemed a little reluctant to do so. "So, how was your first day serving Her Highness?"

"It was…" Angelique hesitated for a moment, thinking of how best to describe it for Jean. "I'm worried, to tell you the truth."

"Worried?" Jean spoke the word as though he had no idea what it meant. "Worried? What is there to be worried about?"

Angelique turned her gaze away from Jean and onto the empty space around them. Other parts of the ballroom were crammed with people waiting for the music to begin so that the wider space of the dance floor would open up. They were stuffed in so tight that the expensive gowns of the ladies were in danger of being crushed in the press, and the gentlemen who didn't have the luxury of wide-skirts were being crushed in the press. Only for those like the prince and princess, figures of great import, was a little space opened up so that they were put to no discomfort…but where they stood near the back of the room Jean and Angelique had at least three feet of clear space all around them. And it was not because they were figures of great import. Rather – or so Angelique strongly suspected – nobody wanted to get too close to the little street rats who had crept so impertinently into the palace. She wouldn't have been surprised to find that some people thought they had fleas.

Jean didn't appear to have noticed their isolation and Angelique wasn't going to upset him by pointing it out…but she had noticed, and it was combining with some of the things she had seen today to give her a bad case of butterflies in her stomach.

"Our fortunes are tied to hers, aren't they?" Angelique asked, gesturing with one hand towards Princess Cinderella as if there could be any doubt as to the 'she' to whom Angelique referred.

"Indeed they are," Jean said, though he sounded almost glad of the fact instead of terrified by it. "All that we have, all that we are now, is by her grace and gentle favour."

Angelique rolled her eyes. "Do you actually listen to yourself? She's a woman, not an angel. Idiot."

"She is a princess," Jean corrected her. "And so closer to heaven that we are."

If Angelique had rolled her eyes any more she would have done herself an injury. "You do realise that she…" She paused, and laughed for a moment.

"What?" Jean asked.

"Don't ever change, okay?" Angelique asked. "Promise me you'll stay the same. A fool."

Jean sniffed. "I prefer to think of myself as a romantic."

"It comes to about the same thing," Angelique replied. "But it's what makes you who you are, so keep it."

Jean grinned, and bowed his head. "As mademoiselle wishes."

Angelique snorted. "Does it really not bother you, that we're wholly tied to the fortunes of the princess? That we owe everything to her, that we rise and fall with her and no efforts of ours can change that." If Princess Cinderella were to drop dead tomorrow, felled in some horrible carriage accident or crushed beneath a collapsing chandelier, how long would it be until orphans Jean and Angelique, the princesses pets from off the street, were shown the door? At best they might survive here for a period of mourning, but would anyone else want them around? Would even her husband give a damn about them?

Angelique highly doubted it, and it worried her. It irked her too; she had never been so thoroughly dependent on anyone else since she had got kicked out onto the streets in the first place. Jean was her friend but she had never depended on him for survival. She could have left whenever she wanted and she would have been alright. But now…their fate was in Princess Cinderella's hands, and Angelique didn't much care for the feeling.

"Who better to be the captain of our fate?" Jean asked.

"Us!" Angelique replied vehemently.

"You worry too much, Angelique," Jean replied breezily. "Her Highness is loved by everyone, there is no one better to be associated with."

"Loved by everyone," Angelique murmured. "I'm not so sure."

"What do you mean?"

"I…it's just a feeling," Angelique said. "I…I was with the other Ladies in Waiting today, we were with the princess all afternoon, I…"

Jean placed a hand upon her shoulder. "Go on."  
Angelique frowned. "I don't trust them," she said. "Serena du Montcalm, Grace du Villeroi, Theodora Mercedes de la Tour, I don't trust any of them." Angelique prided herself upon her judgement of people, on her instincts for sensing the natures of the people around her and they were _wrong_. If they were half so nice as they were playing at being then Angelique would eat her slippers.

Jean crossed from her side to stand in front of her. His face was suddenly grave as he looked down upon her. "They haven't…they haven't hurt you, have they? Or been cruel to you?"

Angelique scoffed. "No. No, it's nothing like that."

"Then what is it? What have they done?"

"Nothing," Angelique admitted. "But…I don't know, they don't feel right. They're…they're too nice."

"To you?"

"Not really, although none of they have been overtly rude," Angelique replied. Mostly they ignored her, in a benign sort of way. "No, it's to Princess Cinderella. They're far too nice to her."

Jean folded his arms. "Don't you think that the princess deserves to be treated nicely?"

"Yes, but…" Angelique tailed off for a moment. "If you could see the way they act, the way they talk to her, the way that they latch on to her, physically latch on to her and pull her around like a doll…it's not normal. It's too much."

Jean's earnest brow furrowed. "You think…you think that they're pretending to be kind to her highness? Wouldn't her highness notice that?"

"Would she? I don't know," Angelique replied. "I mean, she doesn't seem to find anything wrong with it, but…what if she didn't realise?" _Or what if I'm just imagining things because I'm floundering in this place?_

"If…" Jean murmured. "If what you say is true, then you should tell the princess?"

"Tell her what?" Angelique demanded. "Tell her that I think her best friends are deceiving her because they're too nice to her?" She could imagine how that conversation would go, it would end up right back at Jean's question: _don't you think that the princess deserves to be treated nicely?_

She couldn't tell Princess Cinderella that the answer was no, in large part because it wasn't. The princess did deserve to be treated nicely. She might not be the angel on a pedestal that Jean had made her in his mind, but she wasn't stuck up and she wasn't full of herself and she tried to be kind to the people around her. She had been good to Jean and Angelique...she seemed to want to be a good person. She deserved to be treated with kindness and friendship in return.

It was just that Angelique didn't believe that what she had seen from Serena and Grace and Theodora deserved to be credited with the name of 'friendship'. But it was just a belief, without solid grounds on which to stand.

"And besides," Angelique said. "Nobody likes a tattletale, do they?"

"No," Jean murmured. "So what will you do?"

"I don't know," Angelique replied. "I…I just don't know."

The orchestra sprang to life as the sounds of sweet music swelled up in the ballroom.

Jean smiled. "Well, while you think it over, Angelique, will you dance with me."

Angelique placed her hand in his. "Alright, but remember it was your choice to be embarassed in front of all these people." She let him take her into hold. "You look very nice, by the way," she added, looking at his double-breasted blue jacket with polished brass buttons, and the crisp white sash around his waist and his high, polished black boots. "This isn't quite your usual uniform, is it?"

"It's the dress uniform," Jean said. "For special occassions."

Angelique chuckled. "You love this, don't you?"

"We've arrived, Angelique," Jean declared, as he led her onto the dance floor. "In a single bound we have soared from the bottom of the heap to the top of the pole."

"A pole sticking up out of a heap?"

"You know what I mean," Jean murmured. "We're here, Angelique. We're here and no one can deny it. Why not enjoy it?"

 _Because it isn't ours,_ Angelique thought to herself. _Because it isn't in our actions, it isn't in our hands, it isn't in our gift to determine whether we stay here or not. We are here now by the grace of a single woman. That isn't a thing to be celebrated._

 _It's a thing to be defended._

* * *

No doubt there was a signal given by someone, but Cinderella did not see it, and so it seemed that suddenly the orchestra had sprung to life upon some invisible command. All of a sudden the crowd that had gathered around her and Eugene, a blizzard of names that Cinderella was struggling to remember, made their passing farewells and made their way, pair by pair, onto the dance floor as the music swelled for the first waltz.

Eugene raised her hand above his shoulder, and offered her his other arm. "Shall we, Cinderella?"

Cinderella beamed brightly. "Of course."

She had forgotten what it was like to dance in his arms. No, not forgotten, that was the wrong word by far. She would never forget that night, never forget that dance, never forget what she had felt in those moonlit hours. But, though it was her most cherished and beloved memory, it was but a memory. The contrast between the memory and the real thing, between the memory of dancing and the actual fact of twirling amongst the crowd, of stepped lightly between the gowned ladies and the suited gentlemen, was the difference between dreaming of an embrace and the embrace itself. The memory was wonderful, the memory was beautiful, the memory was perfect; but it was but a memory and could never compare to experiencing once more the real thing. And Cinderella adored every moment of it. She adored the way her skirt rustled as she twirled in Eugene's arms, she adored the way that all the world beyond her prince became a blur, she adored the way her heart beat faster as she stared into his eyes. Most of all she adored Eugene: the way he held her, at once so gently that at any point she could have pulled away from him, yet at the sametime so tightly that she felt as though he would never let her go, never let anything happen to her; the way he looked at her that said he would never hurt her, never abandon her, never look at anyone else the way this way; the way he led her without ever once forcing her, because he knew that she wanted to follow; she loved everything about him, and she knew in her heart that she felt the same.

She felt nothing but disappointment when the dance finished.

"That was..." Eugene smiled. "May I have the third dance?"

"Oh, without a doubt," Cinderella said breathlessly.

Various young ladies, including Grace and Augustina, pressed around Eugene for his attentions in the second dance. Pressed, in fact, so closely all around him that he looked quite lost for a moment before finally plucking Theodora's hand out of the crowd with the air of someone picking an apple out of a barrel and hoping that it had no worms. Cinderella glanced his way with a smile that was as sympathetic as his situation deserved, which was to say that it had more amusement than pity in it, before turning her attention to those men who sought her hand for the coming dance. They were not nearly so numerous as the many ladies encircling Eugene, but there were a few of them, young officers in gaudy uniforms or youthful rakes in bright attire contrasting greatly with the dark sobriety of the older gentlemen. She offered one delicate to the face in the crowd that she knew best of all. "Monsieur Gerard, you may have the honour."

Lucien's blue jacket was open, revealing a bright red waistcoat that made him look rather like a robin. He appeared even more robin-like in his triumph as he puffed out his chest as though he had just driven off some impertinent rival. He took her wrist, his fingers brushing against her diamond bracelet, and kissed her hand as he had done before. "The honour is mine," he said in a tone that was almost hungry, as he took her in hold for the Viennese waltz.

Lucien did not hold her so well as Eugene did, he could not achieve that mixture of gentleness and firmness that only true love could create; rather he held her a little too tightly, and pressed his body against hers a little too close; but Cinderella said nothing, for it would have been cruel to have given him the dance only to immediately start castigating him for all his faults as a dancer. He was her friend, and she wanted him to stay that way; if he was not Eugene, well, who else was? He would never match her husband in her estimation because no one ever would, and that was not his fault at all. And it wasn't as though he was really hurting her.

As the dance began, Cinderella was surprised to discover that Lucien was not a particularly good dancer; his movements were a little sluggish and did not flow as gracefully as they could have done. To his credit, however, he seemed to be aware of this, and Cinderella came quickly to the conclusion that he was, if not quite doing it on purpose, then at least exaggerating his lack of skill. Though he never once stepped on her feet, or upon the hem of her dress, he contrived to appear more than once upon the verge of a pratfall, and did so with such expressions on his face that Cinderella was giggling by the time the dance finished.

"What were you doing?" she asked in between laughter as the dance concluded. "Why would you pretend to be a bad dancer?"

"Because I am at best a forgettably average dancer," Lucien replied. "And so I would rather be unforgettably bad, in a good way."

Cinderella covered her mouth to obscure the last of her chuckles. "It was certainly memorable, I admit." She curtsied to him. "Thank you, Lucien."

"The pleasure was mine, Your Highness," he said, and bowed to her before she turned away, to see Eugene coming towards her for the third dance.

Eugene put his arms around her, and once more Cinderella felt lost in her own world as they moved effortlessly together among the whirling gowns and glittering crowds.

That dance, too, was over far too swiftly for Cinderella's liking, and other hands pressed upon her, eager for the dance, even as the young ladies descended once again upon Eugene. Serena grabbed Cinderella by the hand and, after introducing Cinderella to her sharp-faced and darkly-handsome brother Anatole, begged her to honour him for the fourth dance, which Cinderella did: Anatole de Montcalm was controlled and graceful, but he steered her with at times a little too much force, and Cinderella returned to Eugene for the fifth dance. For the sixth, Cinderella reached out past many of those clamouring for her attention to favour Jean with her hand. He was...there was not much getting around the fact that he was terrible, but it was so understandable in the circumstances, and he seemed so shamefacedly aware of his own shortcomings, that Cinderella's heart could not help but go out to him.

"I apologise, Your Highness," he muttered, as he stumbled once again. "I should not have presumed to-"

"It's alright," Cinderella said gently. "For your first ball, you're really doing very well."

Jean looked up from his feet for a moment to meet her eyes. "If the princess will forgive me I suspect you did rather better at your first ball."

Cinderella laughed. "Well, yes, I suppose you could say that. But that doesn't change the fact that you'll get better with practice. Please, don't get too despondent."

And always she returned to Eugene like an old, faithful hound.

* * *

Princess Frederica stood near the back of the room, a drained and discarded wine glass sitting upon a nearby table, standing in front of one of the broad windows so that the moonlight streaming in cast a long shadow before her.

Though she was attired in a ballgown of glimmering green that matched her eyes, though a tight emerald choker was clasped about her neck, though she was dressed as were all the other well-bred young ladies come to the ball for a pleasant evening, Frederica did not look happy. She had refused all requests for her hand to the point where people had stopped asking her. She wasn't here to enjoy herself.

She was here to watch Princess Cinderella, the enemy she hadn't asked for and had not wanted.

 _What am I going to do to you, princess?_ she wondered in the privacy and security of her own head. _What will become of you under her torments._

It could not be avoided, the sequence of trials that Frederica was planning for the new princess of Armorique. It was the only way she could walk the narrow line of obedience to her father and obedience to herself, of serving Normandie's best interests and behaving in such a way that would let her sleep at nights. She would not kill the other girl, who had done her no wrong but rather sought for happiness and been fortunate enough to find it...but she would have to hurt her, and harry her, and quite possibly terrify poor Cinderella out of her wits with murder attempts before she could convince her father to give up as a bad job a cause that had been lost a long time ago.

And in the meantime here she was, in the palace of Armorique, watching the enemy she had not sought who had bested her in a contest she did not care for

Frederica owed Cinderella that much. Her father commanded death with carelessness that verged upon thoughtless. He marked his enemies for elimination as easily as a spoiled child tosses his toys onto the floor when he grows tired of them. Hiding behind his soldiers and his spies he had forgotten what it meant to snuff out a life. He sent out an order that Princess Cinderella of Armorique was to die, and to him it would be a name crossed out on a list somewhere. But Frederica, she owed Cinderella the dignity of looking at her, and understanding what it would mean if her plans went awry and the new princess perished as a result. That life extinguished, that angelic smile snuffed out, the brightness stolen from out of those blue eyes; that beauty turned to dust and all the joy she brought forth in her husband turned to sorrow.

That was what it meant to take a life: hearts broken and lives ruined in the wake. That was why Frederica preferred to do her work without killing, if it could possibly be avoided.

She prayed to God that it could be avoided now.

And so she watched, as Cinderella danced as though she would never grow tired, as though the music itself gave her strength and energy. She was so in love, it was obvious to see even from a distance. When she was in Prince Eugene's arms...Frederica felt jealousy at the happiness they shared pricking at her heart.

 _Another cause lost long ago._

At the moment, however, the princess' partner was not Prince Eugene but that young officer who had come to the house. Jacque, was it? Something beginning with J. He was a poor dancer, but such was Cinderella's grace that she was making even him seem passable.

"Princess Frederica, you do not dance?"

Frederica possessed just enough self-control not to jump at the realisation that Prince Eugene was standing right next to her. "No, sir, I am not in a dancing mood. I'm sorry, but if you came to request the pleasure then I must disappoint you."

"My wife provides me with all the pleasure I require tonight," Eugene said, in a voice that was halfway to a growl and getting closer all the while.

Frederica glanced at him. "I see. Then you came here to practice your skills at sneaking about? Your stealth is commendable."

Eugene was silent for a moment. "Have you any idea how hard it is for me not to put my hands around your throat?"

Frederica laughed softly. "I see that Colonel Gerard has been telling you stories about me."

"Stories, is it?" Eugene replied. "Then it isn't true."

"He has no proof."

"That isn't the same thing and you know it."

"If you want a denial then here it is," Frederica declared. "I had nothing to do with what happened on your wedding day. I'm sorry that your celebration was interrupted but it was nothing to do with me." She smirked. "But if you believe that then you wouldn't be standing here, glaring at me in such high dudgeon, would you? Tell me, Prince Eugene, does it flatter your ego to imagine that you are so very desirable that all other women are consumed with a murderous jealousy of the one who possesses you? Because I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but you're just not that much of a catch."

Eugene was unmoved. "I trust my friend. He is no fool, and he has no reason to deceive."

"One does not have to be a fool to be mistaken."

"Indeed," Prince Eugene murmured. "And you are mistaken if you imagine that I will suffer this idly."

"Are you here to threaten me, Prince Eugene?"

"I'm here to advise you to go," Eugene said. "Leave this country. No harm has been done, let it end there."

"And if I will not go."

"Then if any harm should come to Cinderella, if I can prove even a hint of your involvement," Eugene said, and he was growling now like some kind of dog. "Then I swear, your father will not protect you."

Frederica smiled sardonically. _My father has never protected me, not once in my life,_ she thought. _It would all be too much to expect him to start now._

* * *

 _A/N: This chapter was originally going to include a bit at the end, after the ball, where Angelique confronts Cinderella, as it were, about the behaviour of some of the other ladies, which is something that a couple of you have asked for in one way or another…but I decided not to do it right now because, as Angelique realises when she's talking to Jean, there isn't a lot to say at the moment because none of them have really done anything yet._

 _How do you tell someone who genuinely deserves to be treated nicely that people are being too nice to her, anyway?_

 _Nevertheless, Angelique will be keeping her eyes open because she's absolutely right about the fates of Jean and herself being tied to Cinderella._

 _This is probably the last chapter that will see any material lifted straight out of Sunset in a Gilded Frame, in this case the description of Cinderella and Eugene's dance. The plot and character divergences are making it harder and harder to find any place for old material, but I am quite proud of that description of their dance if I do say so myself._

 _Next chapter will return to the political plot that has been on the backburner for some time now as weddings and romantic shenanigans took centre stage, as Cinderella delivers her first speech in public._


	16. The Anti-Corn Law League

The Anti-Corn Law League

Cinderella awoke to the sight of Eugene lying beside her, staring at her with his soft brown eyes.

He smiled at her. "Good morning, love."

"Good morning," Cinderella murmured. "How long have you been awake? And when did you start waking up earlier than me?"

"Since it gave me the opportunity to watch you slumber so beautifully," Eugene said, before he leaned forward to kiss her on the nose.

Cinderella closed her eyes and looked downwards. "It's too early for you to make me blush."

He kissed her on both her eyelids, making Cinderella giggle. "It's never too early to pay you a compliment." Beneath the covers, Cinderella felt one of Eugene's hands come to rest on her waist, squeezing it gently through her lavender nightgown. Even now, after two weeks, it felt both novel and wonderful at the same time. With his other hand, Eugene fiddled with one of the braids that fell down beside her face. "Do you often braid your hair before bed?"

"Always."

"You didn't on our honeymoon," Eugene pointed out.

Cinderella chuckled. "As I recall, you never really gave me the chance on our honeymoon."

Eugene let out a bark of laughter. "Fair enough." His hand moved from her waist down to her hip. "What if we just didn't move from here all day? Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

"It would be lovely," Cinderella agreed. "But quite impossible. I have things to do today, and you must have too."

Eugene sighed. "Reviewing regiments, meeting the premier, helping to reply to this...never mind, it's all very dull."

"Really?" Cinderella replied. She propped herself up on one arm. "I think it all sounds quite exciting."

Eugene chuckled. "That's only because it's all new to you, Cinderella. Once you get used to it you will realise that royal work is as dull any other sort."

"Perhaps," Cinderella murmured, though she did not quite believe him yet. "But it can't be more tedious than washing the same floor every few days, or dusting the same pictures, or-"

"Point well made," Eugene said. "And what of you? What tasks await the new princess of Armorique?"

"A group called the Anti-Corn Law League are holding an assembly today," Cinderella said. "They've invited me to attend." Her new secretary - when would she get used to the fact that she had a secretary - had informed her of the invitation yesterday afternoon, and Cinderella had accepted as soon as she understood that they were a group that shared her goal of cheap food for the working poor. "Apparently they want me to say a few words."

Eugene's mouth tightened. "An assembly? Meaning a rally, I suppose. Will there be many people there?"

"I hope so," Cinderella said. She smiled. "If not I'll be afraid I've driven the crowds away."

Eugene did not smile. "You'll take your guards with you, won't you? You agreed."

"Yes, I agreed," Cinderella replied. "Though I don't know who they are yet."

"Neither do I, yet," Eugene said. "But...what time is this assembly?"

"Two o'clock."

"By noon, I guarantee we'll both know who they are," Eugene declared.

Whatever else they might have said to one another was interrupted by the sound of knocking at the door.

"Might I inquire as to Her Highness' state of decency, sir?"

Eugene rolled over onto his back. "Come in, Planchet. Her Highness is quite decent."

"Only quite?" Cinderella asked.

Eugene grinned boyishly as the door into the bedroom opened. Planchet glided into the chamber as silently as a ghost. He was Eugene's valet, which meant that he did for Eugene much the same things that Duchamp did for Cinderella, or at least that was how Cinderella understood it. During the honeymoon he had been an unintrusive presence, noted more by the things that Cinderella did not see – like clothes not properly put away – than by what she saw of him and his activities.

"Good morning, sir," he said in a rolling, well educated voice that verged upon gentility. He bowed to Cinderella. "Good morning, Your Highness."

"Good morning, Planchet," Cinderella said politely.

Planchet held a small pile of neatly folded clothes in his hands. "I'm afraid, sir, that I took the liberty of assuming that you would return to your own chambers to bathe and dress; that being the case I have brought something suitable for you to wear for the brisk walk across the palace."

"Quite right, Planchet," Eugene said, as he climbed out of bed clad in nothing more than a low-hanging undershirt. "I wouldn't want to deprive my wife of her dressing room."

"Although it might be more polite to borrow it for a moment, sir," Planchet murmured. "Will you be requiring any assistance?"

"No, I think I can manage to throw these on by myself," Eugene said as he took the clothes out of Planchet's arms. "But if you wouldn't mind gathering up all my things from last night I'd be much obliged." With one arm, Eugene gestured to his uniform and, indeed, all the clothes he had been wearing last night when he came to Cinderella's room. Cinderella had already changed for bed, and so Duchamp had put her shoes and jewels away before taking her gown and gloves away to be cleaned, but Eugene had arrived for bed still fully dressed and so his jacket, trousers, shirt, shoes, socks, gloves and the like were all liberally strewn higgledy-piggledy about the floor of Cinderella's bedroom.

A pained look crossed Planchet's face, but only for a moment. "Very good, sir."

Eugene walked into Cinderella's dressing room, closing the door behind him, while Planchet glided from here to there and back again about the bedroom gathering up Eugene's clothes. With every time he picked up he first shook it once or twice, then straightened it out and folded it neatly, so that by the time he was finished he had transformed Eugene's mess into a neat pile of laundry resting in one arm.

"That was expertly done, Planchet," Cinderella said.

"Madam is very kind to say so but I'm afraid anything less would be amateurish in the extreme."

Eugene emerged from out of the dressing room. He did not look particularly dashing, but then this was only supposed to get him back to his room where his real outfit waited and so Cinderella supposed that dashing was not really a requirement. "All done, Planchet."

"Indeed, sir."

"Off we go, then," Eugene said. He leaned down to kiss Cinderella on the cheek, and then to briefly brush his lips against hers. "I shall see you at breakfast."

"Of course," Cinderella said, with a smile.

Eugene left, and Cinderella heard his footsteps on the stairs as she descended from her tower. Planchet followed in deathly silence.

It felt like only moments – and perhaps it was – between their going and the arrival of Duchamp, already washed and dressed and ready to help Cinderella achieve the same state of readiness for the day.

 _And to think I was once the girl who got up hours ahead of everyone else. I'm becoming so lazy here, aren't I?_

"Good morning, ma'am," Duchamp said, curtsying to Cinderella. "I trust you had a pleasant night."

"Good morning, Duchamp, and yes," Cinderella replied. "It was very enjoyable."

"I'm glad to hear it, ma'am. Are you ready to bathe and dress or is there something else you desire first?"

"Nothing, Duchamp, I'm ready to…to get ready, I suppose," Cinderella said as she got out of bed and crossed the bedroom to open the curtains obscuring the balcony French window. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Duchamp said mildly. "Do you require any help choosing your dress or shall I go and fetch the water for your bath?"

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "I think I know what I'm looking for today, Duchamp, so could you please bring the water and then I'll show you my choices."

"Very good, ma'am," Duchamp said, and curtsied again. "I shall return as quickly as possible."

Cinderella laughed. "No need to rush, Duchamp, I shan't be able to choose that quickly." Already half the cavernous wardrobe was full of gowns and dresses, and Lucrecia was hard at work making more to fill up the remaining space. Even with a good idea of what image she wanted to present to the world that didn't mean that finding the dress that best reflected that would be an easy task.

"Nevertheless, ma'am, I shall not dilly-dally," Duchamp replied, and she left as swiftly as she had arrived not very long before.

Cinderella frowned for a moment. It really was unfair, wasn't it, that Duchamp had to go pounding up and down all those stairs for the sake of Cinderella. It had been unfair when Cinderella had been the one going up and down and it was no less unfair now that Cinderella was the one staying put. Duchamp was getting paid, which she supposed was more than she had ever been able to say, but all the same…there was a part of Cinderella that felt as though she was taking advantage of the other woman.

 _All I can do is be a good mistress. I suppose I was given three fine examples in what not to do in that regard._

Cinderella walked lightly across the bedroom and into the spacious dressing room beyond. The floor was tiled, so that any water spilled out of the bath would ruin neither wood nor carpet, but like the bedroom before it there were rugs or carpets laid out so that Cinderella's bare feet didn't freeze on the way to the wardrobe. Ignoring the shoe draws underneath – for now – Cinderella threw open two of the great oak doors into a wardrobe set into the wall of the dressing room itself.

Rows of gowns and dresses two deep confronted her eyes.

For the League meeting, Cinderella wanted to appear elegant, but not overbearing; lovely, but not haughty; she wanted to seem like someone who could be – should be – listened to without rubbing her newfound wealth and status in the faces of people who might very well be considerably worse off than she was now. At the same time she didn't want to look like the servant girl she once had been, either. Nobody would pay attention to Cinderella the scullery maid; it was only Princess Cinderella whom they wished to hear.

And yet no one would want to hear from Cinderella the Stuck Up, Vain and Insensitive Girl flaunting her good fortune in the faces of the crowd either. That meant wearing something a little more understated than the kinds of frocks she had grown accustomed to wearing for Eugene in the Summer Palace, but at the same time not descending to the kind of day dress that she might wear if her day's plans did not include leaving the palace.

Cinderella thus had a fair idea of what sort of thing she wanted, the question now was finding something that matched that same idea. It ought to be possible. It would be a bit disappointing if it was not in a wardrobe this size.

Cinderella reached into the wardrobe, moving dresses back and forth along the rails as she searched for what she was looking for. It was a little difficult, since the dresses were set further back than was ideal and Cinderella's arms were not particularly long. It was almost as if you were supposed to climb into the wardrobe in order to get at the gowns within. Certainly it was being enough for that.

Cinderella did just that, and climbed inside. Certainly that made it much easier to see all of the dresses at her disposal – to see them in the round, that was, not to see all those present, although there was certainly that, too – and to get at them. In fact, she thought that she could see something right-

Cinderella heard a floorboard creak in the bedroom beyond, but with her back to the wardrobe door she couldn't see who, if anyone, it might be out there. There might be no one at all.

"Duchamp, is that you?" Cinderella called, not turning around as she kept working her way through dresses towards the one that had caught her eye. "You were very quick, I haven't actually-"

The doors to the wardrobe slammed shut with a thud. Cinderella was plunged into total darkness.

"Hello," Cinderella called, as she fumbled for the doors and pushed against them. They resisted her, in fact they did not budge an inch no matter how hard she pushed against them from the inside. "Hello? Can anyone hear me? Can someone open the door please, I'm afraid…I'm afraid I'm trapped in here, I…hello? Hello, is there anyone there, can you…" Cinderella's breathing became ragged as she knocked on the door. "Can you let me out? Someone? Can anyone hear me, I?"

 _Oh no. Oh no._ Cinderella could feel her heart beating more and more quickly, she could feel her chest rising and falling, she could feel her breath coming in fits and starts.

When she was a child, after her father had died, Cinderella had been a terrible brat. She had been rude to her Stepmother, she had disobeyed commands, she had refused to do the chores that had been set for her. And so…and so her Stepmother had been forced to punish her, to correct her misbehaviour by…by locking her in a pantry cupboard until she had learned her manners. It had been…Cinderella had deserved it but…but she'd hated it at the time…it had been so dark and so confined… _please, Stepmother, please don't put me back in there…please, Stepmother, I'll be good, I promise_.

And now, here she was, in a space that – while not as small as that cupboard by any means – was nevertheless dark, and close, and quite confined. And it was making Cinderella terrified. Her knocking on the door soon turned to wild banging, her shouts to half-inchoate screams as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and then began to fall down her cheek.

"Let me out of here!" she shrieked as she banged helplessly on the doors. "Let me out! Somebody, open this door! Please! Anybody!"

* * *

Angelique climbed rapidly up the stairs, drawn by the sound of someone yelling and screaming that could be heard echoing down from the top. She didn't know what was going on up there – yet – but whatever it was it sounded neither good nor pleasant.

Marinette Gerard followed her. Angelique wasn't sure what to make of that, although she knew exactly what to make of the fact that Serena and Grace were nowhere to be found and tell me again how you're such good friends with dear Cinderella, why don't you? Angelique found herself scowling just thinking about it.

Anyway, they might not be inclined to come and see what was going on up in the princess' chambers but Marinette Gerard was, though Angelique wasn't sure what to make of that really. Mostly because she wasn't sure what to make of Marinette Gerard. They hadn't exchanged so much as a single word to date, and Angelique had only heard a few words tumble out of Marinette's mouth. Whether she was quiet because she was nervous, because she was keeping her own council or because she quite literally had nothing to say Angelique couldn't work out right now.

Right now, it didn't really matter. What mattered was that someone – and Angelique had a sinking suspicion it was exactly who you'd think it was – sounded in some trouble up there and Marinette Gerard was the only person who seemed willing to go and see what was going on. Apart from Angelique herself, but if Angelique had ignored the screaming she didn't think she'd have been able to look herself in the mirror afterwards.

She climbed the stairs as rapidly as she could in an awful pastel pink dress that kept threatening to trip her up, and ran – again as quickly as she could, with Marinette a step behind – across the wooden floor of the bedroom and into the dressing room.

"Let me out of here! Let me out! Somebody, open this door! Please! Anybody!"

It was Cinderella's voice, raised high in terrified agitation, coming from inside the wardrobe. The doors were closed…and a chair had been wedged in place to keep them from opening again.

Angelique and Marinette dashed forward at once. Marinette grabbed the wooden chair and pulled it out of the way, while Angelique grabbed the handles and wrenched open the wardrobe doors.

Cinderella tumbled out, her face stained with tears and her blue eyes as full of water as the sea, to collapse onto her knees on the floor with her arms round Angelique, sobbing onto her shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered, as her whole body was wracked by sobbing contortions. "Thank you."

Angelique blinked, her body frozen as though she had suddenly been immortalised in art or transfigured by the princess' tears into a pillar of salt. She…she didn't know how to react to this. She didn't understand, she didn't…what was she supposed to do now?

 _She's so light._ Cinderella was trembling like a leaf, though her sobs seemed to getting fewer and further between. Still…Angelique didn't really know what to do.

Reflexively, without any idea of whether it was proper or not, she found herself wrapping her arms round Cinderella. "It's alright, Princess. It's alright now."

Cinderella sniffed. "Didn't I tell you all to call me Cinderella?"

The door into the dressing room clicked shut. Angelique looked around to see that Marinette had closed it. Her face was pale. She said nothing as she crossed the room and knelt down beside them, plucking a handkerchief out of her amber-brown sleeve "Here you are, y…here you are, Cinderella."

"Thank you," Cinderella whispered, as she took the offered handkerchief and began to wipe her face with it. "I suppose…I suppose you must think I'm very silly, to get so worked up."

"No," Angelique said. "We've all got our own fears."

"And it's not our place to judge you, in any event," Marinette added. "But it would be best if as few people saw you like this as possible."

Cinderella nodded. "Yes. Yes, I suppose you're right. Thank you, both of you. If you hadn't come, I…thank you." She blinked, and dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. "Do you…do you know what happened? I thought I heard someone and then-"

"It was an accident," Marinette said. "The doors must have just swung shut by themselves, and then…they're often hard or impossible to open from the inside." She smiled softly. "I remember, when I was a little girl, we were playing hide and seek and I climbed into our wardrobe only to find that the doors slammed shut and I couldn't get out again. I had to scream and shout for my brothers to come and rescue me. I'd never seen them look so worried."

Angelique frowned. _An accident? What are you talking about, you know as well as I do that this was deliberate._

Marinette must have noticed Angelique's look, because she gently shook her head. Cinderella didn't notice, on account of the fact that she was still wiping her eyes.

 _Alright,_ Angelique thought. _But you're going to explain why you lied to her very soon._

Cinderella said, "Would…would one of you mind getting a couple of dresses out of the wardrobe for me, please. I…I'm not sure that I can…"

"Of course," Marinette said, as she stood up. "Which ones?"

"The, um, the blue one with the long sleeves and the puffed shoulders," Cinderella said.

"This one?" Marinette asked, as she pulled a dress down out of the wardrobe.

"Yes, and the gold dress with ivory trim."

"This one?"

"Exactly," Cinderella said. "Which do you prefer?"

"The blue one," said Angelique, at exactly the same time as Marinette declared for the gold.

Angelique shrugged. "I just think the gold one looks a bit too fancy, that's all."

Cinderella managed a small smile. "I think, then, that I better plump for the blue one in this case. If you-"

Someone knocked on the door. "Are you in there, Ma'am? Is everything alright?"

Cinderella glanced from Marinette to Angelique. "How do I look?" she whispered.

"Beautiful, your highness," Marinette said, before wincing a little at her mistake.

Cinderella didn't chide her for it, in fact her look showed only gratitude as she handed Marinette back her handkerchief. She stood up, and smoothed out the folds in her nightgown. "Yes, come in Duchamp. Everything's fine."

* * *

Angelique could hear the sound of water sloshing about in the dressing room as Cinderella got washed with the help of her ladies' maid.

She and Marinette Gerard waited outside, although there was nothing for them to do so they could just as easily have gone back down to their rooms on the lower level of the tower.

But neither of them did, because they both had something to discuss.

Though Marinette was only a little taller than she was, nevertheless Angelique had to glance up at her. "Why did you do it? Why did you lie to her?" It occurred to Angelique that Marinette might have been the one to trap Cinderella in that wardrobe, and that she had gone with Angelique in order to see how she was left afterwards.

 _Or perhaps she wanted to get in good with Cinderella by saving her?_

 _Of course, she might well be thinking exactly the same thing about me._

Marinette's face was creased by a frown. "I…I didn't see the point in telling her the truth. This way…it's better for everyone."

"It's not better for her," Angelique said sharply.

"Isn't it?" Marinette asked. "How would she feel if she knew that someone she knows and trusts – and it has to be someone she knows and trusts because nobody else could get up here without anyone noticing – did that to her. Maybe they didn't mean it like that, but you saw how she was. If Cinderella knew that someone, a friend, had done that…she'd be so upset. What's the good of that?"

"So instead she'll just trust the wrong people?" Angelique replied.

"Better to trust too many people than too few, don't you think?" Marinette murmured.

"Not particularly," Angelique muttered. "I think you should only trust people who've proven that they deserve to be trusted."

"That sounds lonely."

Angelique shrugged. "I only have one good friend, that's true," she said. "But at the same time I know that he'd never hurt me. I could tell him anything and he'd…he'll always stand by me, no matter what."

"Well now I feel quite jealous," Marinette said mildly.

Angelique snorted. "There's hard work involved, too," she said. She scowled. "The princess…Cinderella gives her trust too easily. She ought to be told the truth."

"About the chair?"

"About everything," Angelique said. "Do you really think that Grace and Serena care about her? Do you trust Theodora, or even Augustina for that matter? Do you really believe all those protestations of friendship they shower on her?"

"What makes you think I can be trusted?" Marinette asked.

Angelique blinked. "That's true enough, I suppose. But…well, you haven't been acting the same way that the rest have so I suppose that's a point in your favour. You're…"

"More like you?"

Angelique shook her head. "If you like, yes. You never answered my question. Do you really not feel something false from the others?"

"I suppose I know what you mean," Marinette replied. "I hope I'm imagining things, I hope that they're better than that, but…"

"But what?"

"My father had so many friends," Marinette said. "He threw the most lavish parties, gave the finest dinners, put on the best entertainments. People flocked to his house. He had so many friends. I thought…we all thought he had so many friends. And then he lost everything…and suddenly it seemed that none of his friends wanted to call on him. I…I was reminded of that, yesterday, when I saw how they treated her."

"Then why-?"

"Not tell her so?" Marinette asked, and when Angelique nodded she went on. "What good would that do? She…Cinderella was so happy with them all. Why would I want to take that away from her?"

"Won't it hurt her more in the end when she learns the truth?"

"What if she never finds out the truth?" Marinette responded. "Why should he? She isn't going to lose her position and wealth like my father, so…so let her believe them to be true friends if it makes her happy. Let them fawn on her if that's what they want? Why get in the way?"

"Because it's wrong," Angelique said. "I don't understand how she can't see it."

"Because she wants to be liked," Marinette said. "And sometimes, when you want something bad enough, it lets you see things that aren't there, or ignore things that are because they get in your way. She wants to be liked, and that's no bad thing."

"What if they take advantage of her, what if they hurt her somehow, what if they-"

"Then when that happens; if that happens," Marinette said softly. "I suppose we'll have to deal with it."

Angelique hesitated for a moment. _I suppose…I suppose…gah, I suppose she might be right. Telling her someone intentionally locked her in her own wardrobe without knowing who it was…would that really do any good in the end?_

 _Sometimes I miss how simple life was before._

"Alright," she murmured. "Alright, have it your way for now. I'll keep the secret. But…but when I find out who did it-"

"Then ask them why," Marinette said. "Because it just seems so petty and pointless at the moment, don't you think?"

"Lots of things are pointless, and lots of people are petty," Angelique said. "But…you're right, there doesn't seem to be any reason for it. But somebody did it all the same."

* * *

"You let the ball early last night," Eugene said. "Or at least I think you did. I can't say I was paying you too much attention."

Etienne grinned for a moment. "I should hope not. But you're right, I didn't stay too long."

The two of them stood just outside the dining room, where within the servants were laying the table for breakfast. The smell of crisp bacon drifted out from beneath the kitchen door, along with various other scents that made Eugene's stomach growl softly. He folded his arms. "You didn't feel in the mood?"

"I meant no disrespect, but I didn't see the need in staying," Etienne remarked. "No one wants to dance with a man without honour, anyway."

Eugene said nothing to that. There was nothing he could say that had not been said years earlier. Going over it all again would be…it would have little purpose. "How's the boy?"

"He had a bit of a cough while you were away," Etienne said. "It's all better now."

"Are you sure?"

"I had a doctor take a look at him, he assured me it was nothing to worry about."

Eugene nodded. "Well…keep an eye on him, won't you?"

"I always do," Etienne said quietly.

Eugene was silent for a moment. "Yes. Yes, you do, don't you?" He sighed, not knowing what to say next.

"Someone will have to start thinking about his education soon."

"He's only four."

"So it will soon be too late for him to start early," Etienne said dryly. "In any case, I feel that he should be given a young gentleman's education."

"Might that not draw attention to him?"

"I suppose," Etienne conceded. "But then…you could also argue that he hasn't had enough attention so far in his life. Heavens knows what his mother would say."

"There is time enough to think about that," Eugene declared. "This…hardly seems the moment to discuss it."

"No," Etienne agreed. "There isn't really time to give the subject proper justice. Let me know when you're free for a couple of hours and we can row about it properly."

Eugene snorted.

"I'm only half joking," Etienne said earnestly.

Eugene's gaze flickered up off the floor to look at Etienne's humourless expression. "It will be given all due consideration, I assure you. But not right now."

"No," Etienne said slowly. "Not right now."

Eugene leaned against the doorway into the dining room. The only sound that broke the silence was the sounds made by the servants as they made up the table for three. "So…where did you go last night?"

"Hmm?"

"After you left the ball?"

"Oh, that," Etienne said. "I, um, I went to see Lucrecia. We…we had supper and then…"

"And then?" Eugene pressed.

"And then…" Etienne's face began to redden. "And then…I was not quite a gentleman."

"So long as she did not seek to play the lady there's no harm done," Eugene said. He frowned. "Lucrecia. Lucrecia, I feel as though I've heard that name before. Have you-"

"Lucrecia Adessi," Etienne said. "Your wife's dressmaker."

"Cinderella's dressmaker?" Eugene declared in a tone that was both and at once appalled and aggrieved. "Good God, did you have to? I mean, when she comes sobbing to Cinderella over hear broken heart I'll probably get an earful from her about your beastly conduct."

"And if I break her heart then I will deserve any punishment you choose to inflict on me in exchange for that earful," Etienne replied. "Fortunately for you, that isn't something I intend on doing."

Eugene frowned. "You don't intend to break her heart? Well what else are you going to do with it? Do you intend to marry this woman?"

"I should certainly ask her, if I could afford marriage," Etienne said. "Fortunately for me Lucrecia seems content to leave things as they are for now."

"Marriage?" Eugene said in disbelief. "Marriage? To a dressmaker, you must be joking."

"The pot to the kettle cries aloud in that regard, don't you think?" Etienne said acidly. "And yes, as it happens, I am quite in earnest. More than in earnest I…I am in love, I do believe."

Eugene stared at him for a moment. Etienne Gerard, in love? His best friend, in love? It hardly seemed possible to conceive of. He stared…and then his face cracked as he started to snigger like a schoolboy who has just set a tack on the teacher's chair.

Etienne nodded. "Yes, yes, I did give you permission to laugh, didn't I? Come on, let it all out."

"You'd have it coming if I did, I'm sure you'll agree," Eugene said. "But all I really have to say is: congratulations, old friend."

Etienne smiled. "Thank you."

"There…there is no feeling more wonderful in the world, is there?" Eugene asked. "I don't blame you at all for abandoning the ball if you had love waiting for you somewhere in the town."

"I'm well aware of how lucky I am," Etienne said. "Believe me. If only I could marry her, instead of ruining her with our behaviour."

"Don't get too guilty, these sorts of things matter far less outside of the upper classes," Eugene said. _Or so we always told ourselves, anyway._ "Although I can't imagine that your mother is best pleased about this."

"Good heavens, I haven't breathed a word of this to mother," Etienne said. "I don't know how I even could. Not without an awful fuss, anyway. Not that it matters. Even if she consented with glad rejoicing I still can't to support a wife on top of everything else."

"Won't things get easier now that Marinette is out of the house?"

"Just because I'm not feeding her any more doesn't mean that everything is out of my hands," Etienne said. "She'll still need new clothes, more of them now that she has appearances to keep up in front of the princess and the other ladies. And Lucien…"

"I've never understood why you give him a centime."

"I can't just cut him off, Mother would never understand," Etienne replied. "And he is my brother, and I do love him. When I don't want to strangle him, that is."

Eugene shook his head. "There are times when I look at you and I'm glad that I grew up an only child. At other times I wish that I had had a brother to share adventures with. And then I remember that I had one."

A slight twitching of his lip with Etienne's only overt reaction to the compliment. "Your father's pressure to marry might have been less if His Majesty had possessed other heirs…but on the other hand your father's pressure didn't really stop you finding true happiness did it."

"No, no I am glad to say that it did not," Eugene declared. He looked into the dining room, the servants were almost done. "That young man from the church, Jean I think his name is, what's your opinion on him?"

"An abrupt subject change."

"I need someone to take charge of Cinderella's guard, protect her when she is out and about, especially when I'm not around," Eugene said. "Cinderella wants someone likeable, or at least somebody that she can like. I think she likes young Jean Taurillion, so I was wondering if you thought he'd be suitable."

"Honestly?" Etienne murmured. "I think it's probably the best assignment you could find for him."

"How so?"

"The men don't respect him because he's not a gentleman," Etienne explained. "The other officers feel much the same way, you know how it is. Nothing has happened yet, but it will. An independent assignment, a prestigious one, would probably be the best thing for him."

"I'm not doing this for the benefit of his self-esteem or his career," Eugene said. "Can he keep Cinderella safe?"

"Yes," Etienne said flatly. "Probably better than he could do most other things. He's a poor fencer, but he brawls well and is a reasonable shot. And he has a decent enough head on his shoulders; I had him help me when I was looking into the shooting. I take it that's what brought this on."

"When you told me that there might be more attacks-"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to," Eugene said. "Frederica of Normandie isn't the sort of person to stop just because her first try didn't work. Hence, a bodyguard."

"Just Jean or are you giving him men?"

"I thought about eight men, that way they don't all have to do duty all the time," Eugene answered. "Can he lead them?"

"Eight men…I think he'll have an easier time earning the respect of eight men than of an entire battalion," Etienne said. "And I don't Colonel de la Tour will have any objection to being rid of him for a while."

"And he will keep Cinderella safe?" Eugene demanded. "I have to protect her, I couldn't bear it if…"

Etienne held his gaze for a moment. "Having spent a little time what that young man I feel that I can honestly say that he would rather die than see Her Highness come to harm. He'll keep her safe, if anyone can."

"Good," Eugene murmured. "Give him his marching orders, will you. And one more thing. Cinderella…I haven't told her about Princess Frederica and the like. So don't say anything to anyone, will you. As far as everyone is concerned this is all a perfectly normal precaution for her safety."

"You don't think you ought to tell her that someone's out to get her?"

"Why should I want to frighten her unduly?" Eugene replied. "I want to protect Cinderella, not wreck her nerves." _She is so sweet, so full of innocence…I don't want to risk that if I can avoid it._

 _Selfish of me, perhaps, but there it is._

 _I will keep Cinderella safe._

 _And I'll do it without her ever knowing that she was at especial risk, or why._

* * *

Duchamp lifted up Cinderella's hair as the princess fastened the choker around her neck.

Cinderella blinked her reflection staring back at her. No trace of tears remained. No trace of fear that verged on terror, no trace of having almost worn out her voice with screaming not long earlier. No trace that she had almost humiliated herself in front of everyone.

 _What would my friends have thought if they'd seen me behaving like that? What would Eugene have thought? I made an absolute spectacle of myself._

It had occurred to Cinderella that possibly her friends would have forgiven her for her momentary outburst. She hoped they would. She very much hoped that Eugene would have understood as well. But, since she could not be sure, then at least she could be glad that they had not seen it, nor did they seem to have heard it either.

 _Or is that just my stepmother talking again?_

Why did it have to be so hard to tell the difference. She had not deserved to be stuffed in the cupboard by her Stepmother for refusing to be enslaved. Her friends would forgive her momentary faults and lapses in decorum…wouldn't they? Her head told her that both those things were true but her heart…her heart which had languished these past years in darkness still struggled all too often to fully comprehend the light.

 _Eugene loves me. Serena and Grace love me and all my ladies are my friends. Their love is not conditional upon my always being perfect, always saying and doing the right thing, always being what they want me to be. Eugene took me as I am and loves me as I am and will continue to do so._

 _Provided that I don't misstep too badly, oh God, why must I keep coming back to this._

She had to stop this or it would drive her mad…but for now, she would settle for ignoring the whole issue as irrelevant. Eugene hadn't seen her collapsed on the floor sobbing onto Angelique's shoulder. Marinette had closed the door so that no one saw that. Eugene hadn't seen it. Nobody had seen it. Nobody had mentioned it since. It was just an accident, and there was no need to tell anyone (Cinderella was very grateful for the discretion of Marinette and Angelique, she would have to find some way to show her gratitude).

There was no sign of it on her face, so all Cinderella had to do was put her best foot forward and move on as though nothing had happened.

Cinderella finished fastening the choker around her neck, and Duchamp let her hair back down again. The dress that Cinderella had chosen for herself – with the approval of Angelique, whom Cinderella trusted as the voice of the common man in this almost – was a light blue, with bodice and skirt about half a shade brighter than Cinderella's eyes; the skirt was very narrow, not even reaching A-line in proportions, but it did descend all the way to the floor and cover up all sight of Cinderella's plain, high-heeled slippers. In this dress, Cinderella might well have chosen flats, but she had a feeling she might be glad of the extra inch or so to her height on this occasion. The dress had puffed shoulders, rather like the sleeves upon her magical ballgown but just a little bigger, but also long sleeves descending down to her wrists – no room for extravagant diamond or pearl bracelets here - another shade and a half lighter than the rest of the dress.

Cinderella's hair hung loosely down her back, some of it resting upon her shoulders, with most of it held back behind her ears by a plain hairband of blue silk that descended from her crown to disappear into the mass of her hair.

On this occasion she wore little jewellery, lest the crowd judge her to be showing off: only a pair of round pearl earrings, and a black silk choker from which hung a silver pendant in the shape of a heart. She wasn't even wearing her engagement ring today. Cinderella realised with a little bit of a start that this would be the first day since Eugene's proposal that she hadn't worn it. Today her finger bore only the golden wedding ring. It felt…well, she didn't like not wearing it, she would be honest with herself, but it was for a good cause. And besides, it would have been very easy to lose it out in the town, and Cinderella couldn't have born it if that had happened. Best to leave it in her jewellery box for today.

Her cheeks bore barely a touch of rouge, and her lips were painted in a demure shade of rose that was barely distinguishable from their natural colour, even to Cinderella. Her eyes possessed no shadow on them at all.

She looked, to her mind at least, almost exactly as she wished to appear: lovely, respectable, not proud or haughty in the least.

Cinderella hoped that her intent came across to others.

"What do you all think?" she asked her ladies. "Do you think it will do?"

"Oh, you could never look anything less than lovely, Cinderella," Serena cooed. "But I don't see why you're going to all this trouble not to look your best just so a group of puffed up tradesmen can feel better about themselves. Darling, you could look so much better."

"You could _do_ so much better," Grace added. "You don't need to associate with people like that."

"The people like that want what I want, Grace," Cinderella said, without reproach. "I'm delighted that they think it worthwhile to ask me to help them."

"They'd have to be fools to turn down royal patronage," Augustina murmured. "Frankly, Cinderella, you don't need to worry about how you look to them, they'd still beg you to patronise their little movement."

"Maybe," Cinderella murmured. She knew little about these things, so it might be that Augustina was absolutely right. "But that doesn't mean I can't try and make a good impression. And this will make a good impression, won't it?"

"I think so, yes," Marinette murmured.

"Angelique?" Cinderella asked. "What do you think?"

Angelique looked a little unhappy at being put on the spot like that. "I, um, I…I'm not sure, really?"

"If you saw me, dressed like this, what would you think?" Cinderella prompted.

"I'd think…you don't look as though you're trying to show off, I'll say that," Angelique said. "But I'd still know that you were one of…one of them, you might say."

Cinderella smiled. "Thank you, Angelique, that's just what I was hoping for."

"You look absolutely splendid, Cindy," Theodora declared, as she leaned over Cinderella's shoulder to fish around in her jewellery box. She pulled out the pearl necklace with a sapphire hanging from it that was one of the necklaces Cinderella had worn to last night's ball. "Truly splendid, take it from me."

Duchamp looked as though she was about to faint from shock at the impropriety of it all. Augustina's eyes were narrow. Marinette's mouth hung slightly open. Cinderella blinked once or twice in confusion. "Um, Theodora, what are you-"

Theodora smiled down at her. "Oh, you don't mind if I borrow this for the day, do you Cindy? I thought it looked so pretty last night, I just want to try it on for a while. You don't mind, do you?"

How could she possibly refuse? She had so much, much more than Theodora or anyone else. How could she refuse, without sounding like the most vain, conceited, selfish girl that ever lived? If she said no, she would be no better than Anastasia or Drizella. Worse, in point of fact, for demanding friendship and returning spite. If she half wanted to say no, that was a sign of her vanity and a warning that royal life was making her self-absorbed. So Cinderella smiled. "Of course, Theodora, I'm sure it will look lovely on you."

"Oh, I knew you wouldn't mind," Theodora cried. "You're such a sweetheart, Cindy, and so generous." She patted Cinderella's cheek, and pinched it for a moment between her finger and thumb.

Duchamp's eyebrows were mountaineering up her forehead and disappearing beneath her bangs. Angelique's mouth was tight. Augustina's eyes were so narrow that it was a wonder that she could see anything.

Grace looked as if she was recalling an amusing joke.

"Well," Cinderella said, as she climbed to her feet. "Thank you all for your opinions, and for all your help. I'll see you all shortly, once I get back from breakfast."

"Have fun, Cindy," Theodora said, as she fastened Cinderella's necklace round her neck and examined the result in Cinderella's mirror.

* * *

Angelique sat on the stairs leading down from the princess' chambers, resting her chin in her hands, contemplating.

 _One of them, I said to her. You still look like one of them, and I was right. No girl who had to scramble for a living would dress like that, and I suspect she knew that as well as I did. Though I suppose I should give her credit for not showing off a load of glittering diamonds on her arms or round her neck. That would be just showing off, wouldn't it?_

 _One of them, I said to her. As though I wasn't. As though I was still one of…one of us, I suppose. But I'm not now, am I?_

 _I'm one of them myself._

It was…a disconcerting thought, to have become what you had once despised. But there was no getting around the point. Once you took the stray dog home and put a bow around her neck she was no longer a stray, and the other strays would bite her if she came too close. In the same way…well, if she ventured out into her old haunts now she should probably count herself lucky to escape with her health and wellbeing intact.

 _I am neither fish nor fowl, too feathered for the water now and still too wet for the birds to like my smell._

Well, as strange as it was, as uncomfortable as it might feel, there was no going back now. She didn't really want to go back. All the things that she had envied about the well-off, and in her envy resented them for their possession of the same were hers now: good food, soft beds, somewhere warm and dry to sleep at night. She wasn't inclined to walk away from that for…for what, for nights under the stars? Romantic nonsense about the spiritual benefits of being poor? Not even Jean was that daft and he believed that Cinderella had acquired some additional goodness of soul just by putting a ring on her finger.

No, she was here now, and she would make the best of it. Because that was what she did: she faced things the way they were, and she made the best of them. Running away was…it was cowardly and childish. That wasn't who she was.

Or at least it wasn't who she wanted to think she was.

"You know, Theo," Augustina's voice descended the stairs. "I think that necklace looks better on you than it did on Cinderella last night."

Angelique frowned, though she knew that neither Augustina nor Theodora – the only two ladies remaining up in Cinderella's room since Cinderella herself had gone – could see it. _What rubbish. I bet you wouldn't dream of saying that if Cinderella were actually there to hear it. Then it would be 'Oh, Cinderella, you're so pretty! You're the most beautiful girl in the whole world, and I'm your best friend ever!'_

As a matter of fact, Angelique didn't think that Theodora was particularly good looking at all. She had a face like a horse and she laughed like one too. The fact that she had tried to call Angelique 'Angie' – and then had the gall to look affronted when Angelique had reminded her that her name was Angelique, not Angie or Angel or anything else thank you very much - had not made Angelique inclined to look very hard for her better qualities.

"I know, doesn't it just," Theodora said, and Angelique found that she could imagine the other woman admiring herself in front of the princess' mirror. "So much finery wasted on that girl. I'm going to see how long I can keep this, it deserves to be worn by someone who suits it."

"You told Cinderella that you were only going to borrow it for a little while."

"Yes, but you don't honestly think that she'll ask for it back, do you?" Theodora asked. "She doesn't have the backbone for that."

"You seem to be getting quite a grip on her," Augustina murmured.

"Oh, it's quite simple really, in the small things at least," Theodora explained. "There's no need to go to all of Serena's trouble – assuming, for the sake of the argument – that she and Grace are faking all of that tooth-rotting guff they spew in her direction."

"I certainly hope they are," said Augustina.

"I can see why they're doing it, but it's so unnecessary," Theodora went on. "All you have to do is ask permission after you've already done the thing you're asking permission for. Then, once you do ask permission, nice people are far too nervous about causing a scene or seeming rude to actually deny you the thing that you've already done or taken."

 _You're a bully, in other words,_ thought Angelique.

"And if they say no?"

"Then you know where their limits are, and you don't trespass over those limits again," Theodora said. "Although, to be honest, I think that our new princess may turn out to be quite the doormat."

 _Two-faced little…_ , thought Angelique.

"I'm surprised you risked that by shoving her into a wardrobe," Augustina said dryly.

Angelique found herself sitting up straighter. She stayed very still, and very quiet. She didn't want either of them to realise that she was listening until they'd finished this conversation.

"Gussie, darling," Theodora cried. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"I could hear her screaming to be let out," Augustina said. "I suspect if I were to press Marinette Gerard on it then she'd tell me everything; I don't think she has much backbone either. And I'm guessing it was the wardrobe since there aren't any handy cupboards up here."

"Perhaps Cinderella did get herself trapped in there and loose her head," Theodora said casually. "What makes you think that I had anything to do with it?"

"Because we were at finishing school together, Theo, remember?"

"Yes, Gussie, I remember. I remember that you were self-righteous and full of yourself."

Augustina chuckled. "Well, I remember that it was you who replaced Antoinette's perfume with horse urine on the night of the debutante's ball; I remember that it was you who put a dozen spiders in my bed; I remember that it was you who rigged a bucket of green paint to land on Antoinette as she came through the door into her room; I remember it was you who put sneezing power in Marie's makeup and, oh, yes, I remember it was you who locked Antoinette in her wardrobe so you could say that you have form for these kind of juvenile pranks. What did Antoinette ever do to you, anyway?"

Theodora was silent for a moment. Then she laughed, that irritating equine bray. "You must admit, Gussie, that trick with the horse pee was jolly funny! The way she stank! And do you remember the way she cried when she realised that she'd got it all over herself and her fancy gown as well? That was hilarious."

"I have to say, I thought it was rather mean," Augustina remarked.

"It wasn't my fault that she didn't have a sense of humour about it," Theodora snapped defensively. "Just like it wasn't my fault that Cinderella couldn't stand in a wardrobe for a few minutes without throwing a temper tantrum like a baby. I didn't know she was going to do that."

"Why did you trap her in there in the first place?"

"For the same reason that I kept on pranking Antoinette!" Theodora cried. "Do you remember what she was like? Such a goody two-shoes, always so pretty and elegant and graceful and everybody fawned all over her. Isn't Antoinette lovely? Isn't it sad that Antoinette's parents are dead? Isn't she brave? I just wanted to show her that she wasn't any better than the rest of us and now, here we are, and it's all happening all over again. Look at Serena, look at Grace, look at the way that Prince Eugene dotes on her, look at some of the nonsense that gets written in the papers. I was just reminding our princess that she isn't any better than we are, she's just lucky."

Angelique looked down and found that her right hand had clenched into a fist while she wasn't looking.

She was angry. She was a little surprised at just how angry she was. Theodora could dress it up in any way she liked, she could make any excuses that she liked, but she was a bully plain and simple. Her father might be something fancy, but Angelique had known people like Theodora de la Tour all her life and they were absolutely despicable.

 _She wouldn't dare do this to anyone who might actually do anything about it. She'd be too scared to do a thing if there was a chance that Cinderella might fight back._

Cinderella wasn't perfect. Nobody was, Angelique wasn't perfect either and she was quite willing to admit that. But Cinderella was kind, even when she didn't need to be, and she tried her best and Theodora was picking on her and tormenting her because…because she could, and because Cinderella's kindness shamed her. It wasn't right. It was wrong and Angelique…

Angelique didn't like it. Maybe she couldn't explain exactly why but she didn't like it. Not one bit.

 _I won't let you get away with this,_ Angelique said, as she hurried to get away before Theodora realises that she had been eavesdropping. _Maybe people won't like a tattletale, but I never came here to make friends, and better a tattletale than a chicken. I won't let you get away with this._

Except…what if Marinette was right? Marinette was almost certainly right. If Angelique told Cinderella this, then…well, first Cinderella would have to believe her, which she might not, especially if Augustina denied it as well. And if Marinette didn't back her up about the chair then it might well look as though she was telling tales. B

But even if Cinderella did believe, then it would upset her to learn the truth. Was it worth it? Angelique thought yes, but then she wasn't the one who was going to be hurt by the revelation.

 _She deserves to know the truth._

 _No matter the cost?_

 _Why should I be the one to judge whether the cost is too high or not, she should make that decision for herself._

 _But by then it will be too late._

It wasn't right, what Theodora was doing. It wasn't right at all…but if it had just been fishing things out of the jewellery box then perhaps that wouldn't have been a particularly big issue. It was…

 _I'm going to keep my eye on her, that's what I'll do. I'll keep my eye on her, and if I can catch her in the act, or near enough to something…then I'll tell Cinderella._

 _Until then…I suppose Marinette is right, it's best that Cinderella doesn't know._

 _At least that way she's happy._

* * *

If Frederica had been a ruthless and sadistic killer bent on taking Cinderella's life, then she would have sent her a bunch of lilies on the morning before her assassination.

As Frederica was not any of those things the lilies were for her, she found the scent quite calming as she waited for news of the success of her plan.

She sat in her study, with a cup of camomile tea cooling slightly on the writing desk, staring out of the window at the bustling life of the town down below. So many people passing to and fro before her eye, so many people oblivious to her troubles or to the lengths to which she was forced to go to keep them at bay.

 _A useful corrective to any feelings of self-pity that I might be harbouring._

Frederica turned away, walking back from the window towards the desk. She sat down, and took a sip of her tea as she went over the plan in her mind for the umpteenth time.

It was too late to do anything about it now, of course, but it helped keep her calm to go over things again while she was waiting for word. It made her feel more in control and less dependent on the whims of fate than she would if she just sat down and waited for Anton to come and tell her what had occurred.

It was not a perfect plan, but in the nature of this situation a truly perfect plan would be impossible. But it was a plan of which she was fairly confident. There was the possibility for something to go wrong – there was always the possibility for something to go wrong – but the plan was the best that she could devise for not failing.

And if everything went according to plan then by tonight Cinderella would be alive but shaken by the day's events, and suspicion would be directed away from her and onto the revolutionary underbelly of the city.

They had found – or rather her agents had found, since Frederica could not risk being seen to be involved in any of this – a plausible patsy to carry the blame, someone who had gotten thrown out of his coterie of would-be revolutionaries for actually wanting to do something rather than just bloviate about the need for somebody to do something. That made him suggestible to the idea that he _should_ take action against the corruption of the upper classes by striking a glorious blow for freedom.

The fact that he was completely inept, didn't even know how to load a pistol – one of Frederica's agents had to give him one that was already loaded – and seemed more concerned about what ringing phrase he would shout than with how he would escape afterwards should mean that he was guaranteed to fail in his mission.

Which would mean success for Frederica, of course.

All the same, there were things that could go wrong. There were so many things that could go wrong.

And it would only get harder from here on out; after all, how many incompetent would-be Jacobins were there in this city?

Frederica prayed for success. And prayed that she, Cinderella and Normandie could all get through this with life and health and dignity intact.

* * *

Jean's blue jacket was crisp and brushed, with the two rows of brass buttons polished to a shine. Polished, too, his knee-high black boots, and the silver buttons running up his white trousers trousers. A pair of golden tasselled epaulettes rested on his shoulders, and in his hand he held a shako with a blue plume and a the Armorican royal crest embossed upon a brass plate attached to the front. He wore a scarlet sash around his waist, from the sash their hung a sword, the hilt of which looked as polished as everything else about him that could be polished.

He also had a pistol, thrust somewhat awkwardly into the same red sash, and compared with everything else it looked just a little out of place: an ugly and prosaic item in the midst of so much fine plumage.

"Jean!" Cinderella cried, as she got up from the writing desk where she had been putting the finishing touches to her speech. "What are you doing here?"

Jean bowed from the waist. "Your Highness, if you are ready then I am here to escort you down to your waiting carriage, and thence to your appointment."

"Are you my guard?" Cinderella asked.

"I have the honour, Your Highness."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Cinderella declared. "Please, Jean, you must call me Cinderella."

"Thank you, ma'am, but I hardly think that that would be appropriate."

"Why are you talking like that?" Angelique demanded.

Jean blinked. "Mademoiselle, I know not what you mean."

"You know exactly what I mean, why don't you talk normally?"

Jean looked a little hurt. "Please, Mademoiselle-"

"My name is Angelique as you know full well!"

"Don't be like that, Angelique," Jean said. "This is how gentlemen address fine ladies."

Cinderella giggled. "Oh, Jean, there's no need for that sort of thing. We're all friends here." She picked up the notes off her desk. "Your timing was perfect; I'd just finished my speech."

"Then we shall proceed at your convenience, ma'am," Jean said gravely.

"I'm ready now," Cinderella said. She looked at Angelique, who had been of great assistance with getting a speech together that people would actually want to listen to. "Thank you so much for all your help, Angelique."

"It was nothing," Angelique murmured. "I hope it goes over well."

"I hope so too," Cinderella said, as she walked across the room to where Jean waited in the doorway.

"I would offer you my arm, ma'am, but I may need both hands free for your protection," Jean said. "Please forgive the discourtesy."

"It's quite alright," Cinderella said. "Although I'm sure that you and Eugene are both getting far too worked up over nothing."

"I assure you, ma'am, that you are safe with me."

"Oh, Ensign Taurillion?" Angelique called out in an artificially sweet voice.

"Yes, mademoiselle?"

"You look most gallant," Angelique, still in that sweet voice. It took Cinderella a moment to realise that she was mocking Jean's slightly stilted mode of speech. "Please, sir, endeavour to return safe home."

A small smile played across Jean's face. "Fear not, mademoiselle; for as my lady has commanded, so shall it be done."

Angelique blinked, and a slight blush began to spread across her cheeks.

Cinderella chuckled. "Goodbye, Angelique, and thank you again!"

She began to descend the stairs, with Jean following a step behind her.

"I hope that you know the way out of here," Cinderella said. "I'm not sure I want to trust my own instincts again so quickly."

 _I doubt that I'll be so lucky as to run into Lucien a second time._

"No, ma'am, I've got Sergeant Bourgogne waiting at the bottom of the stairs," Jean said. "He's been here for many years, and knows the way."

There was indeed a sergeant waiting at the bottom of the tower, a middle-aged man of average height with a sword at his hip and a musket slung over his shoulder, who led the two of them down to the great doors leading out of the palace. A closed carriage was waiting outside, with a soldier perched precariously on the roof and another acting as footman. He held the door open for her, and Cinderella climbed inside. Jean followed her.

"Get up with the driver, Sergeant," he said.

"Yes, sir," muttered the sergeant as the door was shut behind them.

"Is all this really necessary?" Cinderella asked. "I mean…you and three other men. That poor man on the roof, it can't be comfortable for him."

"The prince has commanded it, ma'am," Jean said. "It is my duty to obey."

Cinderella looked at him as the carriage began to move. "Please, Jean, we're practically alone, do you have to be so formal?"

"You're a princess, ma'am."

"That doesn't mean that I want to be treated like an idea rather than a person," Cinderella replied. "I'm still me, I'm still Cinderella; Angelique treats me that way, can't you do the same?"

"But what if people talk, ma'am?"

"About what?" Cinderella laughed. "The fact that I have friends. I'm allowed that, aren't I? I don't want to complain, and I have nothing to complain of really, but I will have if everyone starts treating me like…well, like this. Please, Jean, if only when we're alone and if only to please me."

Jean looked down at the toes of his polished boots. "Very well, if it please you…Cinderella."

Cinderella clasped her hands together. "Thank you, Jean. Now…do you really think all of this is necessary? Or are you just humouring Eugene?"

"I think four men is few enough to guarantee your safety," Jean said. "I promise we won't inconvenience you."

"I just…I suppose I can't imagine anyone wanting to kill me," Cinderella murmured. She leaned against the window. "I suppose that sounds very arrogant, doesn't it?" _I'm so wonderful that everyone loves me and I haven't an enemy in the world._

"Actually, I think it sounds quite humble," Jean said. "I…I didn't believe you had any enemies either. But Colonel Gerard says that…he says that princesses have enemies, whether they want them or not."

"All I want to do is help," Cinderella said.

"And I believe you will," Jean said. "With all my heart I believe it. You…you bring hope with you, wherever you go. That…that someone like you can rise so high…it shows that everyone has a chance. I mean…you brought me hope, when I didn't expect it."

"Really?" Cinderella asked. "You're flattering me, aren't you?"

Jean shook his head. "I…when I found out who His Highness was marrying…I was able to believe again."

"Believe in what?"

"That things could get better," Jean said. "For me, for Angelique; for everyone."

Cinderella was silent for a moment. For very simple words, Jean had just imparted something more profound than any of his attempts at sounding like a gentleman.

"I…I…" Cinderella stammered for a response. "I will do everything I can to be worthy of your faith, Jean. I swear it."

"You don't need to feel answerable to me, I only meant-"

"You meant very well," Cinderella said. "And I will try to do well, as well as I can."

The carriage brought her to a great stone hall, built in a classical style with Greek columns supporting the portico and an inscription in Latin that Cinderella could not understand above the door. There was a crowd gathering outside the hall, ordinary people in best suits and Sunday bonnets filing in through the six sets of open doors, and they cheered as Cinderella descended from her carriage with Jean following close behind.

Cinderella waved, and smiled, and hoped that she didn't seem too nervous in the face of all this adulation.

 _I hope that I don't disappoint everybody._

"Your Highness! Make some room there, make some room! Your Highness!" a man pushed his way through the crowd. He looked a little older than Eugene, few years, perhaps as many as ten, but at the same time a good deal younger than His Grace or certainly His Majesty the King. He was slightly squat, and slightly heavyset, with an equally slight tendency to jowls upon his face. His hair was light brown and long, swept behind him for the most part where it stuck out a little behind his ears, as well as descending down before them to form a pair of thick sideburns. He was dressed in a dark three-piece suit, and as he approached Cinderella he took her hand in his own and pressed it to his lips.

"Your Highness!" he declared. "Thank you for accepting our invitation."

"The pleasure is all mine, monsieur, thank you so much for inviting me," Cinderella replied. "I hope I won't disappoint you."

"Nonsense, Princess, the word of your attendance here has doubled the number of journalists in attendance, at least. Come, please follow me."

The crowd made a path for her Cinderella as she followed the heavyset man beneath under the Greek style portico. People waved to her – Cinderella waved back as often as she could, and kept a glad smile on her face at all times to hide the butterflies frolicking in her stomach – they called out to her, some of them even reached out as if to touch her, although none of them could get close enough to actually do it. Some of those in the crowd, and more of them once she passed through the portico and into the hall proper, seemed to be gentlemen of the press, and they shouted questions at her as she walked by, though there were so many of them and they were all shouting at once so it was nearly impossible for Cinderella to actually hear what the questions were.

And then Monsieur Valis of the Breton Gazette stumbled out of the crowd, looking a little more dishevelled than he had the last time Cinderella had met him. "Your Highness!" he cried, as he essayed a rather clumsy but nevertheless quite sweeping bow, spreading his arm out flamboyantly as he did so. "Might I beg the honour of a few brief questions?"

Cinderella remembered that he had written some very complimentary things about her after the last time they had spoken, and so the least he was owed in return was a small share of her time and attention. "Of course, Monsieur, ask what you will."

"What made you decide to join this gathering here today?"

"Free trade is a cause that I support," Cinderella replied. "And everyone here supports it too." A few people, those close enough to hear her, cheered at that as if to affirm the truth of it. "So why should I stay away?"

"What of those who say that you are improperly interfering in politics?"

 _I might be able to respond to that better if I understood better how politics work,_ Cinderella thought to herself, but her lessons that would have taught her those things had not yet begun and she was not aware of the problem beyond a vague knowledge that somebody thought there was one. "Just because I have married a prince, monsieur, I don't see why I shouldn't be allowed to have an opinion or have the ability to act on that opinion, do you?"

"And besides," cried the heavyset man who had led her into the hall. "I don't see any politicians here to be interfered with, do you? Her Highness comes to hear the people and to speak to them; what deputy of the chamber can say the same?" People cheered him loudly.

Monsieur Valis scribbled something down in his notebook. "Sometimes, Monsieur Durand, I think you forget you are a deputy yourself," he murmured. "One final question, princess: what is it that you hope to accomplish here?"

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "At the very least," she said softly. "Everybody here will know that I am on there side."

Monsieur Valis bowed. "Thank you, Your Highness, that was all that I required."

Cinderella was led by Monsieur Durand up onto the stage at the back of the hall, where she could observe the cavernous space in which the meeting was held. The ceiling was incredibly high, possibly even higher than the grand ballroom in the palace, if not by much; it was vaulted with wooden beams, and stone cherubs looked down upon her not only from the corners of the hall but from all the points at which the curved beams converged together. Cinderella felt the little angels' eyes upon her as she took her seat upon a stage raised about a dozen feet off the ground together without about a dozen ladies in Sunday gowns and gentlemen in frock coats and top hats. Jean stood at attention behind her seat, while his men waited down below for them both.

Beneath them, looking up at the raised stage, the hall that had to be twice as large as the palace ballroom was filled to bursting with people. Closest to the stage they sat. Further behind they stood up in great throngs. There must have been hundreds of people, thousands even, all gathered to hear those dozen on the stage as though they possessed some sacred word that was guaranteed to bring great things to all who heard it.

They were all so well dressed. From their attire they might have been going to church. Cinderella wasn't sure if that said more about how this cause was regarded or about the act of coming to this gathering was seen by the people.

"Welcome, friends!" Monsieur Durand declared, as he strode to the front of the hall. "Welcome, one and all, to this gathering of the Anti-Corn Law League. Let us shake the heavens and the gatherings of the high alike with our argument, for though we are but ordinary people still we have a voice, and we shall make that great voice heard throughout this nation!"

The crowd erupted in cheering and applause; and his speech had only just begun.

A great number of speeches followed, from all those up on the stage with Cinderella. Some spoke with the reasoned argument of philosophers, others spoke with the passion of demagogues, some combined the two and spoke passionately and with reason both at the same time. One by one they all rose from their seats to address the crowd upon the injustice of protection, upon the condition of the country, upon economics and politics and history. They touched upon soaring themes that flew up the ceiling of the hall, and carried the imaginations of the people with them.

As she listened, Cinderella began to feel quite inadequate.

 _I should not be here. I can't compete with all this. Compared to them, my words will seem…they'll seem stupid and childish by comparison._

She almost wanted to sink into the floor and escape before anyone noticed.

Cinderella leaned back in her seat, and she felt her back touch Jean's hand as it rested on the back of the chair. He pulled it away quickly, and murmured some sort of apology…but by then she had felt him, and been reminded of his presence…and of what he had said to her just a little earlier, in the carriage.

 _He said I gave him hope._

 _And I promised to be worthy of it._

Cinderella took a deep breath. No, she would not run away. She couldn't run away. Even if her speech was inadequate compared to those that had gone before, she would give it anyway. At the very least, as she told Monsieur Valis, all the people would know that she was on their side.

"And now, I give you the newest member of the Royal Family of Armorique, but one who nevertheless stands with us against the greed and callous arrogance of so many of our so-called betters. I give you someone who has already stood up for the people of this country: Cinderella, Princess of Rennes!"

Cinderella got up from her seat as the applause struck the ceiling. She almost stumbled on the hem of her dress as she made her way to the front and centre of the stage, and stood in the view of everyone as the applause and the cheering both died down to nothing.

Silence descended on the hall. Hundreds, thousands of eyes were upon her, and the only sound was the sound of rain striking the roof of the hall above them.

Cinderella's mouth felt very dry. She felt beads of sweat form on her brow. She had never done anything like this before. Nothing had ever prepared her to do something like this before.

 _I chose this when I chose Eugene. This is what it means to be a princess._

She swallowed, though without any actual liquid to dampen her dry mouth and throat the result tasted a little bitter and harsh. She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes as though that might help her to forget all the eyes that were upon her.

 _I can do this. I don't have to be a great orator, I just have to convince everyone that I'm sincere._

"I…I don't claim to be very wise," Cinderella said, speaking as loud as she could as it occurred to her that in addition to history, politics, etiquette and everything else on a list of things that she needed to know and understand but did not – a list that seemed to lengthen daily – it might be a good idea to get some oratory lessons in as well. "I don't claim to be particularly well read. I don't claim to be particularly knowledgeable about a lot of things. I know that if many of you were to picture a princess and all of her accomplishments, someone like me wouldn't necessarily come to mind. But I do claim to be able to recognise right from wrong, and I believe that when someone is unable to feed themselves or their family on the proceeds of a hard day's work then that is wrong.

"I believe that when the price of so simple a thing as bread is out of reach of so many people in a peaceful and prosperous country like ours then that is wrong. I believe that when those who have so much grow fat while those who have nothing starve then that is wrong.

"And I believe that to purposefully keep foreign grain out of the country for no better reason than to push up the price of grain grown here at a time when that price is already too high for enormous numbers of people is very wrong!

"And that is why I am here today. Because I can see that there is so much in this country that is wrong and I cannot simply sit by and enjoy my wonderful life and leave those wrongs to go uncorrected.

"I don't know if any of you have read Monsieur Valis' very kind account of how I came to be here, in front of you all," Cinderella said. "Needless to say I've been very lucky. And, because I've been so terribly fortunate, I pledge to you that I will do all that I can to share my good fortune with you all.

"I don't know exactly how much I can do. I can't promise that I can make everything better just like that. But I do promise that I will do all I can. Because I'm with you."

She stopped, and waited for a moment to see how they would take it.

The sound of the rolling applause was like thunder. It was like waves crashing on the shore during a tempest, it was like an avalanche rolling down a mountain except, instead of danger, it meant her nothing but goodwill and warmth.

In spite of herself, it brought a smile to Cinderella's face.

She barely heard the congratulations of Monsieur Durand or the other speakers on the stage, but she recognised the slightly awestruck smile on Jean's face and took it to mean that she had done well.

"Shall we go home, your highness?" he asked her.

"Yes, but let's not rush," Cinderella said. "I want to meet some of these people."

Cinderella picked up the front of her skirt and descended the steps down from the stage to where her escort waited. She motioned for them to give her a little room as the crowd continued to applaud for her and cheer for her, and if she wasn't careful it was going to cause her head to swell up so big that it would burst from arrogance as a result of all this.

She wanted to do more than just smile and wave. She tried to say a few words to those people closest to her, where she could hear them over the continuing cheering; she took a few hands, she said something back where she could think of something to say, and thus she slowly made her way back through the crowd towards the door and her waiting carriage.

Someone blocked her way, standing between her and her guards. The applause was starting to die down a little now and Cinderella could hear herself speak. "Hello," she said. "Can I help you?"

The who blocked her way was about of a height with Jean, with dark hair and dark eyes beneath heavy brows that cast those eyes in shadow. He wore a long brown coat, and he threw back that coat to reveal a heavy pistol thrust into his belt.

 _What…no, he can't…does he…but why…_ Cinderella gasped as a whirl of half finished thoughts whirled around in her head, none of them complete enough to allow her to do anything as the man reached for his gun.

His mouth opened in a loud shout. "Sic Semper Tyr-"

His words were cut off by an answering shout from Jean, a wordless shout as he pushed past Cinderella who cried out in alarm as she stumbled and fell sideways. A dozen friendly arms caught her before she hit the floor, supporting her like a blanket, and she lay there suspended in their grip as Jean charged forward like an angry bull to throw himself upon the man with the gun.

Jean didn't have his own pistol out. He hadn't even drawn his sword. But he had a fist at the end of each arm and he slammed his fist into the other man's gut before punching him a second time in the face. The man reeled backwards, grunting in pain. Jean pursued him as relentlessly as ever Lucifer had chased Jaq or Gus across the floor. He grabbed Cinderella's would be assailant by the collar and hammered his head forward like a woodpecker once, twice, three times battering his forehead into that of the armed man, forcing him backwards as the crowd made space for them. People were screaming now, rushing for the doors, Cinderella could see her soldiers trying to reach her but struggling through the press.

Mind you, Jean seemed to be doing quite well enough on his own. In fact he seemed to be dominating the fight to the point that it almost seemed unfair. He punched, he hammered his head into the other man's face, and his opponent seemed too dazed and confused to do anything about it. When Jean grabbed his enemy's pistol and at the same time punched the other man sprawling to the ground, pointing his own gun at him, it seemed less as though he had a won a fight and more as though he was ending the torment.

Jean shook his head as if to clear it, even as he cocked the pistol that had been meant…that had been meant for Cinderella.

 _Meant for me,_ Cinderella thought. _He meant to kill me. But what had I ever done to him, I don't even recognise him._

 _Was Eugene right all along?_

 _Was I right, too, and that shot at our wedding was meant for me as well?_

 _Who would want to kill me?_

 _Who would want to kill me so badly that they keep on trying?_

"Don't move!" Jean yelled. "Or I swear to God I'll let you have it."

The man on the ground twitched. "Kill me," he said. "And a hundred more sons of liberty will spring up to take my place!"

"Well when they do I'll take care of them and all!" Jean yelled. He took a deep breath. "Your Highness?"

Cinderella escaped the clutches of her well-wishers. "Yes?"

"Are you hurt."

"No," Cinderella said. "No, I…I'm…I'm not hurt." She had been about to say 'I'm fine' but that would not really have been true. She could feel her hands, her arms, her whole body seemed to be shaking.

 _Someone tried to kill me._

 _Someone tried to kill me again._

 _Someone would have killed me, if it hadn't been for Jean._

 _And to think I didn't want a bodyguard. How foolish I was._

 _Will they try again? Who are they? What's going to happen to me now?"_

"Thank God," Jean muttered. "Thank God. Sergeant Bourgogne!"

"Yes, sir," the sergeant said as he forced his way through the crowd.

"Secure this man and take him to the Gatehouse," Jean said.

"Yes, sir."

Jean stepped back as the sergeant and another of his men hauled the man upright, pinioning his arms between them. "Your highness, with all due respect, I think that I ought to get you home now as quickly as possible."

Cinderella nodded mutely, and allowed him to lead her briskly back to the carriage without delay.

* * *

 _A/N: At firs the would-be assassin was actually going to die at the end of this chapter, shot when his own gun went off by accident; I decided that that was a bit too dark and so we have the ending that you see just above._

 _The other big change that happened was that, once I decided that Angelique was going to overheard Theodora and Augustina talking, she was going to be discovered eavesdropping and be blackmailed into silence by Theodora (who's father, Colonel de la Tour, is mentioned briefly by Etienne as Jean's colonel) threatening Jean's career unless Angelique kept her mouth shut. In the end I decided that that didn't work for a few reasons: firstly, Jean is the last person who would want Angelique to keep quiet for his sake; second it made Angelique look bad; and thirdly Jean enjoys enough royal favour for having saved Cinderella (and now he's saved her twice he's pretty much bullet proof until or unless he screws up big time) that it wouldn't be nearly so easy for Theodora to just get rid of him and Angelique would be smart enough to realise that._

 _Of course that still leaves the issue of what Angelique will do next unresolved. I wasn't sure about the whole 'Cinderella in the wardrobe' bit, but the main reason I decided to keep it in was for that conversation between Marinette and Angelique afterwards where they weigh up the costs and benefits of telling her the truth. I think Cinderella probably should know the truth, but I can see Marinette's point as well._

 _I'm not sure why Theodora suddenly became so mean and spiteful, but I kind of like the way she turned out (it means that Angelique and Cinderella have someone to overcome without foiling Serena too son, for one thing); in some ways I find her more despicable than Serena because at least Serena has a goal that she's working towards._


	17. Fearful Consequence

Fearful Consequence

The carriage race down the streets of the city back towards the palace, but Cinderella barely felt the clatter of the axels of the bouncing of the coach as it bounced off the cobblestones.

The rain fell heavily all around, turning the streets to rivers and the ditches and potholes into lakes, but Cinderella barely heard the rain banging on the roof of the coach.

Three thoughts reverberated around her head, going round and round like the tolling of a great bell, echoing through her mind like the chimes of the palace clock.

 _Someone tried to kill me._

 _I nearly died._

 _If it weren't for Jean, I would be dead._

 _I was right all along._

She had suspected - a suspicion borne out of no good grounds but only a child of intuition - that the shot fired upon her wedding day had been intended for her. She had suspected, based this time upon his manner, his hesitation when he spoke, and generally the appalling way in which he tried to lie to her, that Eugene knew that as well as she did and believed that she was in further danger, that was why he had insisted on a guard. And now...now all her suspicions, no matter how slender, had been confirmed because someone had just tried to kill her.

Someone had almost succeeded, would have succeeded if it weren't for Jean.

Cinderella was not a stranger to death. This was not the first time his grim shadow had intruded into her life. She had been seven years old when her mother passed away. Cinderella hadn't been able to say goodbye, because she had been laid up in bed at the same time, sick with the same fever that had taken her mother; she had been spared, but her mother had not. And then, when she ten, her father had gone to join mother and this time Cinderella had been there, had been at his bedside, weeping as he left her, while her Stepmother and stepsisters stood glowering in one corner of the room.

Cinderella was not a stranger to death, but that didn't mean that she wanted to die. It didn't mean that she could greet death like a friend, it didn't mean that she wasn't frightened by the very idea of it. No, no she was frightened. In fact in this moment as the sight of the gun and the look of fury on the face of him who had the gun filled her thoughts, as she relived over and over the moment when he had reached for his pistol, as her heart beast so fast it seemed her chest would burst Cinderella still felt terrified. She was terrified because she had almost died.

It was not the first time: she had nearly drowned that day with Eugene, before the wedding, when the horses had bolted during their carriage and she had been thrown into the river, but though that had been at the time, equally terrifying for her - the speed, the wind in her hair, the sensation as she flew through the air and landed in the water - the terror had also passed more swiftly. It had been an accident,and an accident from which she had been swiftly rescued what was more. She could tell herself - had told herself - that as long as she was careful, and perhaps a little more brave in future (she should have jumped from the coach when Eugene told her to) then nothing of the sort would happen to her again. But this...this was not an accident. This was an act of malice directed against her and there was nothing that she could do to stop something like it from happening.

Nothing except become a hermit, and never stir beyond the palace walls again.

She was loath to do that, and yet it no longer seemed as inconceivable as it would have done yesterday or earlier today. Because she was petrified.

"Your Highness?" Where not long before Jean had roared as loudly and as fiercely as any bull in the field, now he spoke as gently as a lamb. "Princess? Cinderella?"

Cinderella started, as he became aware of how solicitously Jean was looking at her. She hadn't realised just how her fright might look to others. She wasn't aware of what she had been doing. She was not crying, but she could feel herself shaking, if only a little, and the fact that she had been unaware of all things around her had probably not escaped notice either. "Yes...yes, Jean?"

Jean looked as full of sympathy as a well is full of water. "Please...please don't be afraid, princess. Don't be afraid of anything. I...no harm will come to you while I'm alive, I swear it."

 _But people will try to do me harm whether you're alive or not,_ Cinderella thought to herself. Because somebody wanted her dead, and who was to say that they would not keep trying over and over again, until Jean was not enough to stop them, or Jean died trying to keep her safe or Eugene- oh God!

Cinderella didn't want to die. She didn't want to leave Eugene. She wanted to love him and kiss him and bear his children...but if here were to be hurt, if he were die because of her then how would she live with herself? If Jean perished keeping her safe from her enemies then how would Cinderella look Angelique in the eye again?

"Princess?" Jean murmured. "Princess, didn't you hear me?"

"I have to go," Cinderella whispered.

"Princess?"

"I have to go," Cinderella cried, placing one hand on the door handle. "Stop the coach! Please, stop the coach!"

"Your Highness!" Jean cried, as he grabbed her by the arm. "What are you doing?"

"Keeping you safe," Cinderella said, though the coach did not slow in its rattling progress.

"Keeping me..." Jean looked at her as though she was made. "Your Highness, I promise, I will protect you-"

"While you live," Cinderella said. "And when you die, because of me? What then? What about Angelique?"

Jean's mouth closed for a moment, and expression of almost serene calm seemed to settle upon him, and in that moment he looked older than his sixteen years. "Then Angelique will know that I was her brave boy to the last; and that I died the man she always thought I was. But until...unless that ever happens...I will defend you. Come...come all four...no, it's all three isn't it? Come all three edges of the...oh, I can't remember what it was Colonel Gerard said that sounded so fine but the point is that I'll defend you from the whole world if I have to."

"Why?" Cinderella asked. "Why would you do such a thing?"

Jean blinked. "Because it is not His Highness Prince Eugene alone who loves you, princess," he said. "Every true and honest-hearted man in Armorique loves you well, and I, thank God, am no exception."

The rain was growing torrential as the carriage swept through the gates and into the sanctuary of the palace grounds, coming to a skidding halt outside the steps. The clouds were dark and heavy up above, and the rain was falling in sheets like arrows descending from the sky, but still Eugene was waiting out there for her, wearing his dragoon uniform with a red pelisse over one arm, an expression of concern upon his face that had nothing to do with the rain.

"Cinderella!" he cried out as the carriage halted, as though he had been worried that she would not return, that he would never see her again. As though he felt as Cinderella had felt when she lay eyes upon the pistol.

"Eugene!" Cinderella shouted, as she stumbled out of the carriage and into his arms. She clung to him as the rain descended on them both, running down her face like tears, washing away her makeup and making her mascara run down her cheeks. She clung to him like a drowning woman clinging to a rock in the middle of a river, her arms around his waist as he felt his strong arms enfold her in their turn, holding her close, warm and protective. She felt safe with him, safer than she had since she had seen that awful pistol, she felt safe in his arms though the heavens fell upon their heads.

"When I heard I was so worried," Eugene whispered. Belatedly, he covered Cinderella's head with his pelisse, and Cinderella heard the rain pounding on the heavy fabric and sliding off of it as she was plunged into darkness. "Let's get you inside," Eugene said. "Ensign Taurillion!"

Jean slammed one foot down onto the rain-sodden ground as she stood to attention. "Highness!"

"Well done," Eugene said, his voice thick with relief. "You…you did very well, you…well done."

"I did my duty, sir," Jean replied.

"You did more than I can repay, twice over now," Eugene said. "It won't be forgotten."

"Sir."

"Come, Cinderella, let's get you out of this rain," Eugene said, and he guided her with one hand around her waist – and Cinderella kept one hand wrapped tightly around his – up the steps though Cinderella couldn't see a thing with the pelisse over her head to keep the rain off. She felt the steps beneath her feet, she heard the rain land upon the scarlet garment, she felt it land on her back and start soaking through her skirt.

And then the sound of rain grew more distant, and she could no longer feel it.

Eugene swept the pelisse off of her head, and sure enough they were back inside the palace, with solid and comforting walls on every side and…solid and comforting walls?

 _Have I been left so terrified that I start thinking like this? Is this what I have become?_

It wasn't what she wanted, of that Cinderella was certain. She wanted to be brave, she wanted to be able to brush this off, she wanted to be able to act as though it had never happened, but…but she wasn't at all sure that she had that kind of courage.

Eugene shook his pelisse as water dripped from it to stain the scarlet carpet beneath their feet. He gave it a slightly despairing look before handing it off to a nearby servant, who silently took it away somewhere Cinderella knew not where.

He looked at her, and held her gaze for a moment. His brown eyes were large, wide with concern; his whole face displayed the same feelings of anxiousness for her.

"When I heard…" he murmured. "I didn't know what to…how do you feel?"

Cinderella sniffed as she buried her head in his chest, her hands resting there as well as she turned her cheek and laid it upon him like an upright pillow. "I was so afraid when it happened…all I could think about was that I didn't want to…if Jean hadn't…if he hadn't then I…"

Eugene enfolded her in his arms once more. "It's alright," he whispered. "It's alright now. You're home, and safe. No harm will come to you."

"I was worried that I'd never see you again," Cinderella confessed.

Eugene's grip around her waist tightened a little. "So was I," he murmured.

This was one of the things that she had feared to lose. The feel of his arms, the way he held her, the way that the two of them fitted together so perfectly they must have been made for one another. The thought of never feeling this again, of never feeling him embrace, never feeling this sense of being safe, of being loved…she had not wanted to die and never feel this again.

They stood there thus, locked in comforting embrace, until Eugene released her with clear and obvious reluctance. Cinderella took a step back from him. Water was dripping from the tips of her hair – and her hair was a ruined mess, bedraggled and straggling everywhere and far from its usual soft, bouncy locks – and from her face and from her dress to form a puddle under her feet.

"I…I suppose I should probably go and get dried and changed," Cinderella said.

Eugene reached out and took her hand. "Not yet," he said. "I don't…I can't let you go just yet."

"But I'm soaking wet, I'm getting water everywhere."  
"I don't care," Eugene declared. "We can have the carpet dried, we have chairs re-covered if we must. I can't let you go yet."

Cinderella closed her delicate fingers around his own. "Thank you."

Eugene offered her only the slightest smile. He led her into of the many sitting rooms that sprawled about the palace, and sat down with her upon a green settee that Cinderella feared would certainly need recovering given how wet they still were. She could hear the water dripping off them to land upon the soft green velvet upon which they sat.

Eugene kissed her on the forehead and held her close. "I wish I'd been there," he said. "I should have been there."

"No," Cinderella said sharply. "No, don't say that."

"Cinderella?"

"Jean told me that he'd die rather than let me get hurt," Cinderella said. "And now you…don't either of you think about how I'd feel if either of you were hurt or worse…for me? Do you think that I could bear that?"

"I…I don't know," Eugene confessed. "I…I hadn't thought about it. I just know that when the news arrived, not being there…it was painful. I'm just so glad you're alright."

Cinderella rested her head upon his shoulder. "You know it…it's almost funny. It's so much worse than last time, in the church. That was all…it was all over so quickly, and I didn't really understand what was happening. But today…I saw his face. I heard his voice. But there's a part of me that still can't believe it."

"That it happened?"

"No," Cinderella murmured. "That somebody wants me dead." She frowned. "What did I do?"

"What did you do?" Eugene asked in disbelief.

"I must have done something, mustn't I?" Cinderella asked. "I must have done something to make somebody hate me, or else why would they be trying to…to kill me now? So…so perhaps if I work out what it was that I did then I can apologise and then I-"

"No, no Cinderella, this is not your fault," Eugene said vehemently, tilting her chin up so that she had no choice but to look into his eyes and see the fervour there. "I want you to remember that, I want you to promise me that you will remember that: this is not your fault. You don't deserve this, you will never deserve this. This is none of your doing."

"Then why-"

"Because they are petty men who can only feel any accomplishment from the destruction of those things that are greater than themselves," Eugene said. "Anything ancient, anything grand or glorious, anything smacking of truth…or beauty." He kissed her on the cheek, and again upon the forehead. "They seek to destroy it. They hate us, but we have done nothing to them. You have done nothing to them."

"Are you sure?"

Eugene nodded. "It is not you, it is the monarchy they wish to attack, I'm sure of it. Cinderella…they attacked you because they could attack you, not because they hate you specifically."

Cinderella snorted. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Eugene stroked her cheek with one hand. "It's supposed to make you feel less imperilled. I…I would hate to see your light dimmed by their darkness."

"My light feels rather dull at the moment," Cinderella murmured. She laid her head in his lap. "I feel so tired."

"Do you feel scared?" Eugene asked, as he ran one hand through her damp hair.

"Not now that I'm with you," Cinderella confessed. "Before, I was so afraid…but I think I'm starting to feel better now. I feel so tired."

Eugene stopped stroking her hair. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Go on, trust me."

Cinderella did as she was bidden, and closed her eyes. Her world plunged into darkness immediately, alleviated only by the echoes of the candles burning in the room, the vague sense of light forcing its way past her eyelids.

The sound of a soft lullaby played on the flute drifted into her ears, stroking and the caressing them, calming her spirit and balming it with peace.

Cinderella managed to smile for a little while at the soft, sweet lullaby, before the gentle caress of the melody carried her off to sleep. All her fears were brushed aside as a kindly dark enfolded her.

* * *

 _Should I have told her the truth?_ Eugene wondered as he gazed down upon Cinderella's sweet and slumbering form lying on the sofa and in his lap. She looked so serene now, who had looked so troubled and tormented not so long before. Even as damp as a shaggy dog, even with her hair all bedraggled, even with her makeup washed away, even with her mascara running down her face so it looked as though she had been crying…even with all of that, she was still beautiful in his eyes. Still so beautiful.

And he had almost lost her.

It made him want to lock Cinderella up in a cage of gold for her own safety. It made him want to tear through the capital until he found out who had done this.

It made him want to declare war on Normandie if Etienne's suspicions held true.

It made him want to make sure that this never happened again.

 _Thank God for young Taurillion. Without her…without her I would be bereft of her…twice over now._

The young man deserved a reward greater than Eugene could give him. Still, he would have to find some way to express his gratitude beyond mere thanks.

And always, the thought returned to him: _should I have told her the truth?_

Should he have confided in her, should he have told her about Frederica? Should he have forearmed her with knowledge against these attacks of which this might only be the first?

And yet…and yet what good would that have done? Would it have stopped her going of the meeting today? If not, then it would have made no difference at all; if it would have stopped her going, then…then he would have done that which he had not wished to do and shut her away in the name of safekeeping. Would she want that?

What good would it do to tell Cinderella that yes, someone did hate her specifically and yet, she was the one and only target of these assassination attempts and there would be more of them to come so best get used to it? What possible good would it have done to tell her such awful things? What good would it have done to taint and tarnish her sweetness, when this attack might have done so already?

He would see. Time would tell. But Eugene was convinced that he had done the right thing. He had done his best for her. He would always do his best for her.

He bent down, and kissed her softly on the temple. "Sleep tight, Cinderella. I'll keep you safe."

* * *

Jean winced.

"Oh, don't be such a big baby," Angelique said, as she dabbed at his knuckles with iodine. They were sat in Jean's room, with Jean sitting on his bed and resting his hands upon a little wooden table, while Angelique used the only seat in the room to sit across said table and tend to them. "You can beat up an armed man but this is making you squirm?"

"It stings," Jean grumbled.

"Well, if you will go around hitting people..." Angelique said, as a smirk played across her face. "Why did you hit him, anyway?"

"What was I supposed to do, ask him nicely to stop what he was doing?"

Angelique rolled her eyes. "What about your fancy sword?"

Jean grunted. "There were too many people, too close, I might have hit someone if I'd tried to swing it around. Maybe even the princess."

"And your pistol?"

Now Jean looked embarrassed. "It gets caught on my sash; I can't pull it out very fast."

"You must be something wrong, then," Angelique said. "You should talk to your friend the colonel about it, you might not be able to get away with punching someone next time."

"Colonel Gerard isn't a friend, he's...a mentor maybe, sort of," Jean said. "But maybe he does know something I don't."

"I'm sure he knows a lot of things that you don't," Angelique said lightly, with a grin to show that she was only joking. Her grin faded, and she was silent for a moment. "I'm told you were very brave today."

Jean looked away from her, as she continued to dab at his hands. "Anyone would have done the same."

"But no one did," Angelique replied. "No one except you."

"I did my duty," Jean muttered.

"Duty?" Angelique repeated. "Don't sell yourself. No one in this place will give you credit if you're not willing to take it for yourself. You've saved the princess twice now."

"We saved Her Highness together, the first time," Jean said softly.

Angelique was silent for a moment. "Yes, I suppose you could say that. But no one will remember it. Shouting 'Look out!' isn't very dramatic compared to the tale of Jean Taurillion, two-fisted hero."

"Two-fisted hero?" Jean repeated with a touch of incredulity in his voice.

"Don't let it go to your head," Angelique said with a slight chuckle.

Jean didn't respond.

"Hey," Angelique said. "What's the matter?"

"I don't feel like a hero," Jean murmured.

"You ought to," Angelique said. "You are one, in my book anyway. How many people can say they saved a princess once, and you've already done it twice."

"She was terrified," Jean whispered.

Angelique blinked. "Pardon?"

"On the way back from the hall, after it was all over," Jean explained. "Her Highness...she was so terrified. For herself, but for me too. She tried to jump out of the carriage and...I don't think she knew what she was going to do, but she didn't want me or anyone else in danger because of her."

Angelique leaned back in her chair, feeling a certain sense of...she wasn't really sure what it was that she was feeling right now, upon hearing those words come out of Jean's mouth. Astonishment? Surprise? Hope? Gratitude? All four and more at once, maybe. She hadn't expected to hear anything like the words that Jean had just spoken. Nothing like them at all.

She had known, either since yesterday or since they met, depending on how much you thought you could learn about a person in a few moments, that Cinderella was a kind, well-meaning, well-intentioned person. But this...that she was concerned for Jean, after she herself had brushed close to death, that she had tried to run so as not to endanger him...yes it was a bit stupid when you looked at it in the cold light, but then Angelique reckoned that if anyone had a right to make stupid decisions it was people who had just been the target of assassination attempts.

But it was also an incredibly brave thing, too. Brave and selfless and good and...so much more, Angelique conceded, than she had thought Cinderella capable of.

 _Have I been underestimating her, just like those ladies I thought I was so much better than?_

 _Is she...could it be that Cinderella is actually the real thing just like Jean always thought?_

"That was foolish of her," she whispered. "But brave and selfless all the same."

"You think so?"

"You don't?"

"It worried me," Jean confessed. "I...Her Highness was so afraid."

"She'll come back from it," Angelique said, thinking of the state that Cinderella had been in after Theodora had locked her in that wardrobe, and how she had recovered her usual good cheer by breakfast-time. "She always does."

"What if she doesn't?"

"She will," Angelique replied with absolute certainty. She snorted. "It's funny how things like this, they...they make things that seemed so important seem so small by comparison."

"Like what?"

Angelique dabbed at Jean's hand with some more iodine. "I found out something today, about one of the princess' ladies-in-waiting. She's bullying Cinderella, stealing from her, playing nasty pranks on her. And this morning that seemed like the worst thing that could happen to the princess. And now this."

Jean leaned forward. "Just because it isn't the worst thing that could happen, doesn't mean it isn't a bad thing."

"I know," Angelique murmured. "And I'm going to do something about it, believe me; Cinderella doesn't deserve to have this continue, especially not now. But I'm not going to tell her about it either, not now, because...because right now I think the princess has enough to worry about."

"Ensign Taurillion."

Jean and Angelique scrambled to their feet as His Majesty the King strode into the room, his face a slight shade of red, his hands clasped behind his back.

Despite the slightly angry look on his face, his voice was controlled, calm, even a little courteous as he nodded in Angelique's direction. "And Mademoiselle Bonnet as well, forgive me for disturbing you."

Jean's face was pale as he dropped onto one knee and bowed his head. "Your Majesty, you honour me with your presence."

Angelique averted her eyes from the King as she curtsied to him. "Your Majesty."

"On your feet, man, this isn't the middle ages!" cried His Majesty. "A bow from the waist will do. Up! Up!"

Jean rose rapidly and somewhat awkwardly to his feet. "Your Majesty. Sir."

Angelique risked a glance upwards. She could see His Majesty regarding Jean in silence, looking him up and down as though he were a dog or a horse.

 _He must be here about what happened today...but then why does he look so angry?_

 _And since he looks so angry then why doesn't he sound angry?_

"They tell me," His Majesty said. "That you saved the life of my daughter-in-law."

Jean was standing rigidly to attention, his back as straight as any pike or musket, his hands balled into fists by his side. He was not looking at the King but rather looking over the top of his head at the open doorway. "I did what was required of me, sir."

"Hmm," the King murmured. "I have to admit that I was not altogether convinced by the notion of making a street urchin an officer of the Guard."

"Your Majesty-"

"Don't talk, young man, just listen," His Majesty said. "It is hard enough for a king to admit he has made a mistake without him being interrupted. Because I did make a mistake. I was wrong about you clearly. In one act you have proven yourself a great asset. My son adores his princess and if harm had befallen her...you have done us a great service, Ensign Taurillion."

"I would do it again without hesitation, Your Majesty."

"Good," said the King. "Good man, I'm glad to hear you say so. Because I do not intend to let these attacks and insults stand."

* * *

"-THIS OUTRAGE CANNOT GO UNPUNISHED!"

"Will you please keep your voice down, father?" Eugene hissed. "Cinderella's sleeping."

Cinderella stirred softly, as the loud volume of noise around her stirred her from restful sleep and back into uncertain wakefulness. Her mind was still unfogging itself as her eyes blinked open, revealing His Majesty the King pacing up and down the sitting room.

"You cannot expect me to tolerate a persistent campaign of violence against this royal house! I will have this nipped in the bud by any and all means at my command!"

"Will stop shouting?"

Cinderella gave a wordless murmur as she pushed herself up off Eugene's lap. "Eugene? What's going on?"

Eugene sighed. "I'm sorry we woke you, darling. My father and I-"

"I am very glad to see you uninjured, Cinderella," the King interrupted. "Very glad indeed. I was just explaining to my son how I intend to proceed to make sure that there is no third instance of this attempted violence against my family."

"Father-"

"No, son, you had your way the last time when I allowed you to leave everything in the hands of Etienne Gerard," His Majesty invested the name with a degree of scorn. "I know you trust him but in this instance it is clear to me that he has spectacularly failed. He has identified no co-conspirators, nor did he stop a second attempt to damage this family. So now we are going to do things right, by which I mean do them my way."

Cinderella sat up. "What do you mean, Your Majesty?"

"The assassin who attempted to take your life is being questioned now," declared the King. "But if, like his predecessor, he refuses to give up the names of his co-conspirators, then I intend to let every spy in the employment of the police off the leash until we have run these villains to the ground. I have called the Premier here to discuss the suspension of various laws and liberties that criminals of this stripe hide behind to conduct their wickedness."

"What my father is somewhat euphemistically describing is having people detained on the slightest suspicion, held for who knows how long without a trial...perhaps even pronounced guilty out of hand."

"Oh, no!" Cinderella cried. She rose to her feet. "Your Majesty, you can't!"

"Can't?"

"Or you mustn't, even if you can," Cinderella declared.

"Must not?" His Majesty repeated, incredulous. "Must not? My son is shot at and almost killed upon his wedding day, my daughter in law comes within a hare's breadth of being shot and only the valiant action of a single guard preserved her life and you say that I must not respond to this? What should I do? Wait until you or my son are not so fortunate? What I must do, Cinderella, is do everything I can to maintain and defend my family! Who do you think you are to stand there and tell me what I must not do to protect my only son and his wife?"

"I'm no one, Majesty," Cinderella murmured softly. She was reminded of Eugene's words to her, upon the first morning of their honeymoon: a princess in rags will not be taken seriously by anyone. And she must look half as bad as she would in rags right now, in a gown that was still damp from the rain, in hair was straggly and sticky, in makeup that was running like rivers all over her face. Small wonder His Majesty was not inclined to pay her much notice. "I'm no one, I know that. But I'm also the only person in this room who was there today, in that hall, when...when it happened. And I saw one person try to kill me, that's true. But I saw and heard hundreds or thousands of people cheer me and applaud me and welcome me with open arms and open hearts. Those are the people that you will unleash your spies upon, those are the people that you will be locking up on suspicion alone. Those are the people who will be hurt by what you're suggesting. And that's why you must...that's why I don't think that you should do it, even if you can: because the innocent will suffer for it."

"Are you not innocent?" demanded His Majesty. "Are we not innocent? And yet do we not suffer at the hands of these anarchists?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Cinderella whispered. "Yes, I think we do. I...I'm not saying that I want to live through something like this again. I'm not saying that I'm not afraid, I am, but I..." Her hand rose to her heart, and her fingers brushed against it's silver counterfeit dangling from her choker. "I think...I'd like to think that...I would rather be scared than be cruel, Your Majesty. Please, Your Majesty...I'm begging...don't prove everyone who hates us right by turning against everyone who doesn't."

The King's eyes were dark and inscrutable. His face remained red with anger, whether at those he had called anarchists or at Cinderella now she could not tell. He stared at her for a moment, then another, then a third and more as the seconds ticked on with not a word issuing out of his mouth. He glanced at Eugene. "What say you?"

Eugene folded his hands in his lap. "It seems to me counterproductive, likely to make us more enemies than it turns up."

Cinderella...Cinderella could not help but feel a little disappointed in him, to so completely ignore the moral point the way he had. She knew that Eugene didn't feel the same...she knew that, although he was a kind man, he did not feel the same need to demonstrate kindness to people less fortunate than himself that she did; Cinderella knew that he didn't feel the need to justify his lofty state and many luxuries to himself or to others through his conduct that she did; and perhaps that made him better than her, more genuine, more honest the way he wasn't dogged by a latent sense of guilt that he felt the need to salve through little acts of kindness...but all the same, Cinderella felt disappointed that he had chosen to dwell only on the pragmatic case, and not the moral one.

 _Maybe he thought I'd send enough about that._

 _All the same...I would have preferred it if he had said something._

"Your Majesty wishes to see me?"

A man stood in the doorway of the sitting room: reasonably tall, with a slightly thin and narrow face and short, light brown hair turning slowly to grey. He was wearing a white waistcoat over a white shirt but under a dark grey dress coat, and his neck was smothered beneath a crisp white cravat that looked to be digging into his chin.

"Ah, Sieur Robert, please come in," His Majesty said, waving the man inside with grandiose motions of one hand. "Cinderella, this is the premier Sieur Robert Danjou; Sieur Robert, this is Her Royal Highness Princess Cinderella."

"Your Highness," Sieur Robert murmured with a courteous bow as he strode lightly into the room. He was sufficiently a gentleman not to remark upon her current state of unkemptness, though he did not offer her a compliment to her looks which, at the moment, Cinderella did not feel she deserved. "I am glad to see that you are unharmed, and I deeply regret that I should have to say such a thing."

"Never mind regrets, man, what is to be done about it?" the King demanded. "Her Highness shows more gentleness than sense and would have me do nothing-"

"Your Majesty I did not say that," Cinderella cried. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I never said do nothing; I asked you not to punish the innocent for the crimes of one guilty man."

Sieur Robert glanced at her with his grey eyes, before he returned his attention to His Majesty. "What is it that Your Majesty wishes?"

"I want these anarchists found!" His Majesty yelled. "I want the police given the power to track down all these villains and put them away! I don't want them weaselling their way to freedom through loopholes! I want my family kept safe from any more of these outrages!"

"The whole realm wishes that, sir," Sieur Robert murmured. "As for your other desires...it would have to be a Coercion Act."

"Can it be done?" demanded His Majesty.

"Without a doubt, sir," Sieur Robert said, his voice remaining soft and still. "Although the question of should it be done is another question altogether."

His Majesty threw up his hands. "Am I surrounded by faint-hearts and simpletons?"

"To be frank and explicit, sir, a truly faint-heart would not dare stand up to your majesty in such a temper," Sieur Robert said mildly.

"Does no one care for my son's life?" demanded the King. "Am I surrounded by traitors?"

"Father, that's enough," Eugene said. He rose from his feet. "Disagree with Cinderella if you wish, but don't insult her. I won't have it. Cinderella is just doing what she thinks is best."

His Majesty's face twitched as he muttered something indistinct under his breath. "I...I'm sorry, my dear. My temper, you know...only son and all that...forgive me."

Cinderella curtsied. "Of course, Your Majesty." _Is he conceding, or just apologising for suggesting that I must be an idiot or a traitor?_

"But I'm still right!" His Majesty said, answering that question. "It's high time a firm line was taken against these anarchists and nihilists and all the rest! They threaten the very foundation of the kingdom!"

"If I may be frank and explicit, sir, my understanding is that these are fringe groups with little popular support," Sieur Robert murmured. "If anything threatens the future of the kingdom it is heavy-handed over-reaction against His Majesty's loyal subjects. The people are not Your Majesty's enemies...unless you make them so."

"Do you, too, advise I should do nothing? Allow these relentless assaults upon my son and his wife?"

"I advise you to be calm, sir. Public opinion is on Her Highness side, and a restrained reaction will win plaudits from every quarter. If there is a conspiracy then public distaste will expose it soon enough."

"And in the meantime, what?" His Majesty shouted. "We must live with the threat of violence."

"If you feel that your family requires additional protection then I am sure that funds will be voted for an increase in the strength of the Guards."

"Yes, yes, if it is all that you can do then do it!" the King snapped.

Cinderella felt hope bloom in her heart. "You mean-"

"Yes, you have won, I hope you're satisfied," declared His Majesty with ill grace.

Cinderella curtsied again. "Thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you so much, on behalf of everyone that you have spared."

His Majesty gave no reply but to grumble petulantly under his breath. He began to walk off without another word to any of them.

Sieur Robert coughed. "If there is nothing else Your Majesty requires-"

"No!" barked the King. "Go, make your arrangements! Find the extra money!"

Sieur Robert bowed to the King's retreating back. "As you wish, Your Majesty. Your royal highnesses." He bowed to Eugene, and then to Cinderella before he began to back out of the room.

"Sieur Robert, just a moment," Cinderella said. "May I have a word with you."

Sieur Robert smiled. "About your pet issue of the Corn Laws, ma'am."

Cinderella grimaced. "Do you mind?"

"I think I can probably guess your arguments, ma'am," Sieur Robert murmured. "And they are all absolutely right, of course, the case for free trade is unassailable."

Cinderella's eyes widened. "Then why-"

"Haven't I done anything about it?"

"Yes," Cinderella said softly.

Sieur Robert chuckled. "Ma'am, allow me to invite you to visit the Chamber of Deputies in the next few days and I hope you will see why, though it may be economic sense, repeal of the corn duties remains thoroughly impractical politics."

"I...I shall," Cinderella replied. _I shall come, and see how and why you excuse not doing something that you know full well to be right._

"I look forward to seeing you in the gallery, Your Highness," Sieur Robert said. "Until then." And then he retired, out of the room and out of sight.

Cinderella glanced at Eugene. "Do you know what he was talking about?"

"I have an idea," Eugene said. "But, honestly, it's best that you find out for yourself."

"Really?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Eugene declared. More softly, he added, "You'd be too disappointed to want to think it was true."

Cinderella didn't know how she ought to reply to that. With one hand she flicked at her loose, damp bangs that hang down between her eyes so different from their usual rolled and primped elegance and prettiness. "I really should change out of this damp dress and wash the dirt out of my hair."

"Alright," Eugene said. "I'll take you up to your room."

He took her by the hand, and placed his other arm protectively around her waist – Cinderella, meanwhile, used her free hand to hold up the hem of her skirt – as he led her to her tower and thence up the many winding stairs that led to her apartments.

About halfway up the final staircase leading to Cinderella's chambers they came across Angelique, barring the way like a sentinel…except without a hostile expression that suggested it was her aim to keep Cinderella and Eugene away.

"I…I heard what happened," Angelique murmured. "I…princess, I…I wanted to say how…how sorry I am for…I'm very sorry."

"Is there any reason you couldn't have waited until Cinderella got to her room to say that?" Eugene asked.

"I don't need to say how sorry I am where everyone can see me doing it, I'm not trying to impress anybody!" Angelique snapped. Her face paled. "I mean…Your Highness…I-"

Eugene chuckled. "It's quite alright; I think I invited that, just a little."

"Thank you, Angelique," Cinderella said softly. "Jean was very brave today."

"He's always brave," Angelique whispered. "I'm glad he was with you…and I'm glad that you're safe."

"I'm glad we're both safe," Cinderella said. "I'm so very glad."

Angelique nodded quickly, lowering her eyes from the prince and princess. "And, um…I'm sorry for getting in your way now." She stood aside, pressing herself against the stair banister. "There you are your highnesses."

"Don't apologise, Angelique, I'm very grateful for your sympathies," Cinderella said. "Are you coming upstairs?"

"Um, if you like, I mean yes, your highness," Angelique stammered. And she followed them as Eugene and Cinderella walked past her and continued to climb the stairs.

"I think she's scared of you," Cinderella whispered reproachfully into Eugene's ear.

"I can't help that, can I?" Eugene replied.

"You didn't have to ask her why she was on the stairs."

"It is a little odd, you must admit," Eugene muttered. They had reached the top of the stairs now, the doorway into Cinderella's room beckoned. "Do you want me to leave you here or shall I come in."

"Come back later," Cinderella said. "And I shall have miraculously transformed into something presentable."

"Like magic?"

"Like magic," Cinderella agreed, and she found herself on the verge of chuckling. "But really just Duchamp."

Eugene leaned down to kiss her, and when their kiss was finished Cinderella was left breathless (although the fact that she could Angelique out of the corner of her eye trying to find anywhere to look away with an expression that suggested she would quite like to sing into the floor did take a little bit of the excitement out of it all).

"I can't believe I almost lost you," he said.

"You didn't lose me," Cinderella replied. "I'm right here."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Eugene stepped away from her with a long, and just as longing as it was long, look upon his face, and held her gaze for a while as if he feared that she would disappear like an apparition the moment he looked away from her. And yet at the same time it felt like no time at all before he turned away, and left her outside the doorway to her apartments.

Angelique cleared her throat. "I, um, I think I probably shouldn't have followed you up these stairs after all."

Cinderella snorted.

Angelique smiled ever so slightly. "It's good that you can still smile, princess. Jean was worried that you would be changed by…"

"Jean was worried?"

"Yes," Angelique said. "I always knew that you'd be fine. Never a doubt."

"I see," Cinderella said, with a knowing smile crossing her face. "I didn't allow me Stepmother or my stepsisters to steal all my happiness before; I'm not going to let anyone do it now, when I have so much more happiness to lose."

"That's the spirit…Cinderella," Angelique said.

Cinderella nodded, and pushed open the door into her bedroom.

"Oh, thank goodness!"

Cinderella had barely taken a step into her room when she was assailed by Serena, who enfolded Cinderella in a voluminous hug.

"Thank God!" Serena cried. "Thank God that you're safe, when we heard the news we were all so worried about you!"

"At first we didn't know what was happening or where you were," Grace added, as she closed in on the pair of them from the left. "Where have you been? And how did you get in that state?"

"When I thought that you might have been hurt I couldn't breathe for a moment," Theodora said. "I was terrified for you. I was shaking when I thought of what might have happened."

"Sit down, Cinderella," Serena said. "Sit down and tell us everything."

"I, um, I'm not sure that I really want to…" Cinderella trailed off as she tried to find a tactful way of telling them all that she didn't really want to relive her experience. She would much rather have just gotten washed and changed, or perhaps talked about her speech and her experience with the League before the incident happened. If she could only find a way to tell them so without seeming unbearably rude about it.

"Oh, but you must tell us," Theodora said. "You must tell us, Cindy, or how can we possibly help you? How can we share your burden with you if you won't let us know what that burden is like? Come, come, sit down and out with it."

Angelique made a sort of noise out of her throat, a sound that Cinderella couldn't decipher the meaning of, as she turned to walk down the stairs.

"Angelique?" Cinderella asked, turning around as much as Serena's vice-like grip allowed her. "Is everything alright?"

"Forgive me, princess," Angelique muttered. "I…I just can't, I…forgive me if I don't particularly want to hear all the details."

That surprised Cinderella a little bit; she had imagined that Angelique would like hear how heroic Jean had been in his rescue of her. But she wouldn't blame Angelique for not particularly wanting to hear how scared Cinderella had been.

She didn't really want to think about it herself. It was only the urgent need and desire of her friends that prompted her to go that well again.

"Of course, I understand," Cinderella said.

Angelique nodded sharply. "Thank you, highness." She walked briskly down the stairs, so briskly that she was almost running.

"I'll go and make sure that she's not ill or anything," Marinette said quickly. "I'll be back soon, highness."

Cinderella guessed that Marinette, too, was a little squeamish about this sort of thing. She didn't blame her at all. "Of course, go, please make sure she's really alright."

"Of course, Cinderella," Marinette said, with a quick curtsy before she followed Angelique out.

Duchamp stood silently in the corner of the room, and watched as Serena, Grace, Theodora and Augustina pressed close around Cinderella, surrounding her on all sides as they directed her movements.

* * *

"Angelique, wait!"

Angelique turned, to see Marinette coming down the stairs quickly after her, one hand raised up to arrest her progress.

"Where are you going?" Marinette asked.

"Away from there," Angelique declared sharply.

Marinette stopped, a half-dozen steps up from Angelique. "Why? Why did she leave so suddenly? Are you feeling sick?"

"Yes, I'm feeling sick, sick of them up there!" Angelique snapped. "If I had to spend one more moment up there I was going to choke! Those people up there, those…those fine ladies, those…just this morning they were pranking her while her back was turned, which I call much worse than a prank if you ask me, and talking her down behind her back, and…not one of them would really give a damn if Cinderella had died today. At least I don't believe they would, after the way I heard Theodora and Augustina talking. But now that she's back they press all around her and fawn on her and pretend that they all care so much for her and they were all so concerned and I…I just can't stand the…the…what's the word?"

"Hypocrisy?"

"Probably, yes," Angelique said. "They're so…I told Jean that what had happened out there made that rubbish with the wardrobe seem so small in comparison but now that I've seen that it's got me every bit as riled up as when I first found out who'd done it."  
"Theodora or Augustina?"

"Theodora," Angelique said. "Apparently she enjoys picking on people who are better than she is. And do you know what the worst part is?"

Marinette took another step down the stairs. "No."

"She's not stupid," Angelique said. "Cinderella, I mean. If she were…it wouldn't be very nice, but I can understand why it was happening…I mean I could understand why she was falling for it, not that I could understand why the others were acting this way. But Cinderella isn't stupid but she can't see…or doesn't want to see like you said. Except that isn't the worse part after all."

Marinette leaned on the banister. "Then what is?"

"That she deserves better," Angelique said. "Jean told me…what he said made me think…she deserves a real friend up there, not those blood-suckers."

"I think she has a real friend," Marinette said quietly. "And four blood-suckers."

Angelique frowned. Marinette looked down at her.

Angelique raised one eyebrow. Marinette nodded, in a who-did-you-think-I-meant kind of way.

Angelique snorted. "I'm not her friend. In my own way I'm as bad as any of them." _I'm here to look out for myself and Jean, that's all. I need her help._

Marinette smirked.

"What?"

"Partial blindness is going around, it seems."

Angelique shook her head. "Anyway, what would any of that make you? Friend or blood-sucker?"

"Blood-sucker I'm afraid, if my mother had her way," Marinette confessed. "She wants…well, I think she wants everything back the way it was when Father was alive, as if that were possible."

"Alright, but your mother isn't here. So what do you want?"

"I don't really know yet," Marinette said. "But I do know one thing."  
"And that is?"

"The blood-suckers win because the blood-suckers are around," Marinette said. "You won't fight them by running away from them."

"I won't beat them at their own game, either," Angelique replied. "But I've got a different game in mind for Mademoiselle Theodora, something I don't think she'll have learned in finishing school."

* * *

Lucien drained his small glass of cognac in a single draught and slammed it down hard onto the little table in the backroom of the low alehouse in which he boarded. "This is all his fault!"

"Who?" asked Anatole de Montcalm as he sat in an easy chair in the corner of the room, reading the evening edition of a newspaper dominated by reports of Cinderella's brush with death.

"His Royal Highness, the prince!" Lucien snapped. "He's putting Cinderella's life at risk."

Anatole flicked over a page in his newspaper. "According to this the shooter was some kind of little republican fellow. I'm sure if Prince Eugene wanted to murder his wife there would be more subtle ways of going about it. Poison her, push her down the stairs-"

"You know what I mean," Lucien declared petulantly. "Nobody would be trying to do her harm if she were not a princess, she would not be a princess if she were not wed to Prince Eugene, ergo this is all his fault for putting her in danger."

Anatole de Montcalm's dark eyes blinked. "You…you might actually be grasping at sense there. Bizarre as it sounds there might be some truth in what you say."

"Of course there is," Lucien said. He poured himself another glass of cognac and drained it quickly. "What a fool I was, do you know I actually advised her to give him another chance?"

"Really?"

"Yes, Cinderella was having doubts and I…why didn't I do the sensible thing and tell her to leave him when she had the chance?"

"You tell me, old man, why didn't you?"

Lucien sighed. "Because I wanted her to be happy. And from my foolishness I have put her in great danger."

"Great danger might be going a little far," Anatole murmured. "Apparently her guards reacted swiftly enough."  
"She shouldn't need guards, she shouldn't need to be protected from assassins, she should…" Lucien sat down heavily, making his chair creek ominously beneath his weight. "She shouldn't be anywhere near that wretched place. She should be with me."

Anatole snorted.

"What?" Lucien demanded. "I would make a far better husband for Cinderella than he ever could."

Anatole kept a politic silence.

"Come on then, since you obviously don't agree," Lucien said. "What does he have that I don't?"

Anatole shrugged. "A palace, a throne to inherit one day, grand estates, a civil list, the ability to give her gorgeous gowns and sparkling jewellery-"

"Cinderella doesn't need any of those things!"

"Perhaps not, but considering how many diamonds adorned her at last night's ball I think it's fair to say she likes having them," Anatole murmured dryly. "Are you going to invite her to live with you in a dingy room above a seedy tavern? Or will she share a room with your mouse of a sister and take care of your mother while you carouse and play cards?"

"It wouldn't be like that at all," Lucien snapped. "I'd be a better person if I had her. I will be a better person once I have her. My angel's light will help me cast off bad habits and vulgar acquaintances."

"More likely your darkness would corrupt her angel's light, you little devil," Anatole remarked. He frowned. "Once?"

"Hmm?"

"Once you have her? You corrected yourself from 'if' to 'once'."

"I cannot confine myself to if," Lucien said. "I dream of her, I wake up thinking of her, I cannot…I have to have her, somehow. I have to have her and I will. I'll keep her safe and make her happy, not like Prince Eugene. I'll do right by her, I'll…I'll win Cinderella somehow; I have no choice, I know I can't be happy again until I do."

Anatole folded his newspaper. "Well, if you need any help winning her over to your charms you know I'll always be glad to give you a hand."

"Really?" Lucien asked. "You…you'd really help me?"

"Don't sound so surprised, it's not as though I'm completely self-centred," Anatole replied. "What else are friends for, after all?"

* * *

Etienne shivered in the cold of the night as he rapped gently on the door of _The Florentine Boutique_. Even in the dark, he could still see the white letters painted in the window, ghostly in the black outside and within the shop: _By Royal Appointment: Dressmaker to Her Highness Princess Cinderella_.

The fact that that sign had nearly become out of date was more than a little disturbing.

Etienne had just come back from the Gatehouse, where he had read everything written down of the prisoner's words and heard him say more. He was certainly more talkative than the last person who had tried to assassinate Princess Cinderella; so much more so that Etienne wondered if it was possible that the girl had more than one enemy. That seemed rather a stretch, but the two assassins were so very different…

 _The Black Hand will strike again! We cannot be stopped! We are everywhere!_ His transcripts were full of bold proclamations of that sort, and his speech had not been shy of it either. He didn't have any firm names, just someone called Apis who – assuming he wasn't so mad that he believed that an Egyptian bull god was telling him to commit murders – was obviously a code-name of some kind. And the Black Hand, assuming that he hadn't just made them up to sound sinister, were obviously a new group. Nobody in the police had heard of them.

 _With good fortune this is all just the work of one little twerp trying to make himself seem important._

 _If fortune were good then this would all have stopped after the first attack._

Etienne shivered, not only from the cold but from his own doubts. Had he been wrong the first time, and slandered Princess Frederica or Normandie unfairly? Was the Black Hand some group she had established to hide her crimes and her own involvement? Could the princess herself be the mysterious Apis?  
Or were republicans and Normans both alike aiming at Princess Cinderella's downfall?

The light of a single candle appeared in the darkened shop beyond. Etienne caught sight of Lucrecia's face, her beguiling eyes peering out at him through the glass of the doorway. He saw her smile, and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. He heard the sound of locks and bolts being unfastened before the door opened.

"Etienne!" Lucrecia gasped.

Etienne bowed his head. "I hope that I'm not disturbing you," he said. He showed her the bottle of wine he held in his hand. "I hoped that you might be in the mood for a night-cap."

Lucrecia chuckled. "Of course, come in." She stood aside, and Etienne walked into the darkened shop as Lucrecia shut and locked the door behind him. "You're not disturbing anything. I was just reading before bed."

"Mow."

Lucrecia looked down at the shape of her cat padding across the floor. "No, Penelope, you can't go outside. It's too late."

"Mow."

"And I'm not feeding you, either, you've had your dinner."

Penelope fixed Etienne with a look that suggested he was to blame for her current mistreatment.

Lucrecia laughed. "Don't mind Penelope, she's just jealous of the attention. I'll get us some glasses."

"That sounds wonderful," Etienne murmured. As Lucrecia swept past him, he glanced down at the cat. "Don't blame me, I'm not the one who sets your meal times."  
Penelope made a noise that sounded suspiciously like feline grumbling.

Lucrecia lived above her shop, and so Etienne followed her upstairs and into her little kitchen, where he opened the bottle of wine as Lucrecia fished a couple of glasses out of the pantry. He poured as they both sat down.

"Your health," she said, raising her glass.

"And your success," he replied, raising his glass to her.

Lucrecia sipped at her wine. "Were you working late?"

Etienne nodded. "This business with the new attack."

"I heard about that," Lucrecia murmured. "Her Highness is alright, isn't she? They said one of her guards saved her life, but sometimes these things…they aren't always accurate."

"The princess is in perfect physical health, though I can't say that she wasn't spooked by what happened," Etienne replied. "The truth is, though…it wasn't really her guard that saved her it was the stupidity of the assassin. If he had shot first and then shouted 'Sic Semper Tyrannis'…Princess Cinderella would be dead by now."

Lucrecia shivered. "You know how to fill a girl with cheer, don't you?"

Etienne cringed, snorted and chuckled. "I'm sorry. I really am, I just…it's on my mind, you might say."

"Oh, I understand, don't worry," Lucrecia replied. "That poor girl. She's suffered so much already." She frowned. "I know she's just a customer, but…"

"The princess seems to have a way of winning loyalty," Etienne murmured.

"Can you stop them?" Lucrecia asked. "Can they be stopped?"

"No one's even certain who 'they' are at present," Etienne said. "But…if they can be stopped…then they will not be allowed to succeed."

* * *

It was the dead of night as Angelique crept into Theodora's bedroom.

None of the ladies-in-waiting enjoyed anything so lavish as Princess Cinderella's spacious apartments, but once you remembered that a lot of the princess' floor-space was meant to be used to entertain those same ladies-in-waiting then it didn't seem that uneven at all. Each of them had their own bedroom and their own dressing room, and if both rooms were small then so what. They each had their own bedroom! Angelique knew lots of people who'd be thrilled to pieces to have their own bedroom even if it was the size of a box, and never mind a dressing room.

Of course, their bedrooms were a bit bigger than your average box. It took Angelique about a dozen strides to cross the from the door to Theodora's bed, where she lay slumbering.

Angelique scowled. Theodora de la Tour appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Far more peacefully than she deserved.

Cinderella's stolen necklace lay on her bedside table, gleaming in the moonlight shining in through the crack in the curtains.

 _Right. Let's see if you can take a joke as well as you can dish them out._

In a single bound Angelique leapt up onto Theodora's bed, clamping her hand over the other girl's mouth even as she half-sprawled, half-sat on her, pinning her down where she lay in bed.

Theodora's cry of alarm was muffled by Angelique's hand as her blue eyes snapped open in a panic.

"Hello, Theodora," Angelique said, with a kind of savage glee in her voice.

Theodora mumbled something that Angelique guessed was probably something like 'What are you doing here?' Or maybe just 'what are you doing?'

"I know what you did," Angelique declared. "I heard you and Augustina talking about it. I heard you admit everything."

Theodora mumbled indistinctly.

"Don't talk, just listen," Angelique said softly. "I know that compared to her being shot at, shoving Cinderella in a wardrobe may not seem that bad. I even thought so myself. But then I had to watch you pretending to be nice and friendly with her and I'm afraid that just made me so angry."

Theodora's eyes widened with fear. She kept on mumbling, trying to speak past the hand holding her mouth closed.

"Princess Cinderella is a nice person," Angelique said. "Maybe she's more than that, I don't really know. But she's a nice person and she deserves nice, true friends who are there for her. Unfortunately she doesn't have any of those. She's got you, and people like you."

Theodora mumbled.

"So you're going to go on being nice, because Marinette's right about one thing: it would hurt Cinderella a lot to find out that it's all a lie. So go on being nice to her, and maybe one day you'll even start to mean it. But the stupid pranks stop now. Because if any spiders turn up in her jewellery box, or any paint turns up in her soap or a bucket of water falls on her as she goes through a door I'll know it was you; and I know where you sleep. Do you understand?"

Theodora tried to speak.

"Just nod to let me know you understand."

Theodora nodded frantically.

"Good. I'm glad that we could talk like this," Angelique muttered. "Oh, and give back that necklace, too. It doesn't belong to you, and Augustina's wrong anyway: it looks much better on Cinderella."

* * *

 _A/N: I've just now realised that this is the second time in four chapters that I've used the word 'consequence' in a chapter title. Still, I think it works here because this chapter is all about the consequences of last chapter's events; or at least, about the effects of those events on Cinderella and those around her, anyway._

 _One of the biggest problems with Sunset in a Gilded Frame, looking back, was that Cinderella didn't really win anything. I'm hoping here to space some little victories for her out across the chapters._

 _Angelique's action at the end here is an attempt to square the circle between wanting to see something done about the ladies in waiting versus the effect on Cinderella of finding out the truth versus what could Angelique actually say. Next chapter will see Duchamp's attempt to address the same issue from a different angle. What you might call the Theodora arc is not over yet, but it will be completed fairly quickly as I don't want it to overshadow Serena and take over the story._


	18. Not Trapped and Not Alone

_Morgain2005 – Yes, Anatole is named after Anatole Kuragin from War and Peace (also the Great Comet musical based off it). One of the things that really inspired me to rewrite this fic was the BBC's 2016 adaptation of War and Peace (with Lily James as Natasha Rostova, coincidentally); in particular the portrayal of Helene Kuragina and the 'Anatole seduces Natasha' arc. Serena in this version of the story is inspired by the way Helene was done in that series and the fact that she has a brother/sidekick named Anatole is a nod to that._

* * *

Not Trapped and Not Alone

Theodora de la Tour was absolutely incensed.

That insolent, jumped up little…nobody treated her like that. _Nobody._ The last girl to come even close to treating Theodora that way had gotten hit with a whispering campaign so bad that she'd had to run away to Louisiana to get away from it! If little Mademoiselle Angelique Bonnet thought that she could threaten Theodora de al Tour and that Theodora de la Tour would just lie there and take it then the little gutter rat was in for a very rude awakening.

Theodora tore apart her Danish pastry as though she were ripping Angelique's head from her body. She had tried to be nice. She had tried to be pleasant. She had even overcome her disappointment sufficiently to be a good friend to the scullery dog in spite of how little she deserved the friendship of someone like Theodora. And her reward? Did she get any thanks? Did she get any appreciation for her hard work? No. No, not a bit of it! She pulled one prank – which Cindy well deserved, the way she carried on with that 'I'm such a sweet and innocent angel' act, good god woman, grow up! – and she got an insolent little wretch threatening her. Threatening her!

Theodora had not gotten a wink of sleep for the rest of the night. She had lain awake seething over the injustice of it all and plotting her revenge against Angelique Bonnet.

Angelique might not have been afraid of Theodora's physical revenge, but she really was as stupid as the average lumbering peasant if she thought for one moment that Theodora was going to let her get away with this. Oh, no, she was about to learn that you didn't threaten Theodora de la Tour and get away with it.

Theodora was going to have her sent straight back to whatever workhouse Cindy had found her in. Cindy wouldn't refuse her. Not her, not Theodora, not her good friend Theo. It was unfortunate that this was not an occasion where Theo could kick Angelique out first and then turn round with an innocent expression and say 'Where's Angelique? Oh, she's back in the workhouse, I had her taken there. You don't mind, do you, Cindy? That is alright isn't it? There isn't a problem, is there?'

Theodora snorted. Actually, just thinking about it made her want to do just that, if only for the look on Cindy's face when she found out about it. The little kitten wouldn't know which way to turn. Theo felt her mood improving immensely from imaging Cindy, presented with a fait accompli, reduced to a stammering wreck before finally murmuring that it was quite alright, of course, and Angelique had never fit in around here anyway.

Unfortunately, as fun as that would be Theodora didn't actually have any power to get rid of Angelique without Cindy's say-so, and so in this case she would have to ask permission before forgiveness.

Not that that ought to present any huge difficulties; she had the impression that Cindy found it very hard to say no, and if she tried…Theodora simply wouldn't take no for an answer.

Theo had read Cindy's interviews as assiduously as any other eligible maid in the kingdom, eager to know just who had beaten them and how. What she had found, reading between the lines, was the disappointing fact that she had been bested in love by the Amazing Spineless Woman, who would have better off in a freakshow than in a palace. What Anastasia and Drizella had done to her…some people might say it was all very sad, some people might pretend to think it was very sad to curry favour – yes, Serena, I'm looking at you right now – but all Theodora could think was _how much of a doormat do you have to be to let people do that to you?_

She, herself – Theodora could say with complete confidence – would never have allowed herself to be taken advantage of in such a way. She would have fought back. She would have resisted her Stepfamily. She would have run away, if that's what it took. She would have rescued herself with her wits and determination, not waited around for some man to save her from the harshness of her life. The fact that Cindy had singularly failed to do any of those things could only mean that she was a brainless, spineless, wet blanket. Theodora, who possessed the strength of character to overcome the kind of trials that it had taken Cindy a marriage to limp away from, would have no difficulty dominating her by force of will, exactly as Anastasia and Drizella had, if it became necessary.

After all, Anastasia and Drizella were both complete idiots, so there was no way Theodora was going to fail at something that they had accomplished with such ease.

Yes, Cindy was wrapped around her little finger and she was going to stay that way. Angelique would soon be cast into oblivion, and everyone would learn what happened when you got in the way of Theodora de la Tour.

* * *

The light falling in through the balcony doors glittered upon Cinderella's glass slipper where it sat upon her bedside table. Eugene had offered to put it in a vault somewhere as one of the royal treasures, but Cinderella had politely declined the offer. It was precious to her, certainly, but only to her she was sure. Cinderella couldn't imagine that future generations would be interested in it. It had meaning for her, and no one else, and so she kept it in her room where she could look at it and remember by what miraculous path she had come to this place.

Just as she was looking at it now. _No matter what comes next. No matter what happens, no matter what...no matter what they do to me...I found love and happiness here, for however long it lasts. And nobody can take that away from me._ Cinderella smiled, a smile tinged with just a touch of regret that the glittering glass of her dream had turned out to be covered in places by the unpleasant dust of reality, as she turned away from the slipper and returned to the dressing table, where Duchamp was waiting to finish helping Cinderella get ready.

She had no public engagements today - a part of Cinderella doubted that Eugene would have let her go even if she had - and not enough time to accept Sieur Robert's offer to attend the Chamber of Deputies and see for herself what he meant by 'not practical politics'. Her lessons would begin today, in etiquette and politics and international relations and perhaps a little history, and that would take up most of today and, for the rest, Eugene had said he would try and spend her free time with her in as much as his own duties would allow it. And so, not needing to dress to please any faction of the public or to put across any particular impression of herself to them, Cinderella had dressed today in order to please herself. She wore a dress of baby blue, with a narrow skirt of tulle that stopped in crinkled folds around the level of her ankles. The collar, ruffled and curving in a gentle valley from just off one shoulder to the other, was a somewhat darker blue, darker than Cinderella's eyes, with a baby blue flower set in the very centre of the valley. Darker blue, too, was the sash around her waist, bound up in a poufy bow behind Cinderella's back, with two streams descending down from it almost as long as the skirt itself. A second bow, this time of a colour that matched the dress, held back Cinderella's hair in a low ponytail, allowing a pair of small pearl earrings to peak out from underneath her strawberry locks. A simple pearl necklace, in a princess style, adorned her neck, just as a pair of single-strand pearl bracelets were clasped, one each, around her arms, one clasped tightly just above her wrist, the other dangling more loosely halfway up Cinderella's forearm. Her slippers were high-heeled and blue, but otherwise quite plain, absent any sort of decoration upon the toe or anywhere else for that matter. Her rings dressed her finger up in gleaming gold.

Only her makeup remained to be applied and then Cinderella would be presentable once more, and ready to face another day within this vast, imposing palace. "Now, what sort of eye-shadow do you think, Duchamp?"

Duchamp coughed. "Forgive me, ma'am, but if I could have a word before we get to that."

Cinderella looked up to see Duchamp frowning down at her. "Is everything alright, Duchamp?" Cinderella asked. "Do you need...is there anything I can do to help?" _Should I have noticed that you were unhappy sooner? Have I been so wrapped up in my own problems that I've been blind to yours?_

"No, ma'am, I'm in no trouble, though thank you for the offer of assistance," Duchamp said primly. "Rather...forgive me for saying so, ma'am, but it strikes me that you allow your ladies in waiting far too many liberties in their behaviour towards you. I would caution you against it, if you will permit me."

Cinderella blinked rapidly. "I...I'm afraid that I don't understand, Duchamp. Is this about the fact that they address me by my first name, because I asked them to do that so that we could become better friends and I don't really see why it should be an issue."

"I surmised as much, ma'am," Duchamp replied, her voice steady. "And, though perhaps it is a little unorthodox, it is neither unheard of nor wholly inappropriate. But to allow them to address you by diminutive pet names does not strike me as appropriate, if ma'am will pardon my forwardness."

It took Cinderella a moment to realise what - and whom - Duchamp meant. "Are you talking about Theodora?"

"Mademoiselle de la Tour was the young lady to whom I was referring, yes," Duchamp replied. "With respect, ma'am, you ought not to allow her to speak to you in such a way, still less to filch items from your jewellery box without even asking permission until after she was caught. You allow all your ladies too much leeway, but Mademoiselle de la Tour takes fullest advantage of it."

Cinderella frowned for a moment, considering Duchamp's point, before she shook her head from side to side. "You're making too much of this, Duchamp, far more than it warrants. I admit, I don't particularly enjoy being called Cindy but Theodora doesn't mean any harm by it. It's just the way she is. And as for the necklace, does it really matter if she asked permission before or after?"

"With respect, ma'am, you shouldn't be lending out your jewellery at all."

"But I have so much of it, more than I could ever wear at any one time," Cinderella protested. "So why shouldn't I let my friends borrow a little bit of it every now and then?"

"Because you are not their friend, ma'am, or not only; you are their princess, and every time you lower yourself to behave merely as the equal of your ladies you diminish the respect they ought to hold for your position and yourself. These are not merely your friends, ma'am, they are your servants too. You should remember that in the treatment you show to them."

"I've been treated like a servant for half my life, Duchamp," Cinderella replied. "It wasn't pleasant and I don't intend to visit it on my friends."

"Would you allow me to borrow your diamond necklaces whenever I wished, ma'am?" Duchamp asked archly.

Cinderella's mouth opened, and then closed again. She half turned away from her ladies' maid as a great well of shame opened up inside of her. "I...would you like to borrow them? Every now and again?"

"No, ma'am, I have nothing suitable to wear with them," Duchamp replied dryly.

"So you're not asking for my ladies to be treated the same way that I treat you," Cinderella murmured.

"No, ma'am, that would be equally inappropriate, I simply advise that you do not treat these ladies as your friends simply because you wish that it were so."

"But they are my friends," Cinderella said. "They're all so kind to me."

"Are they, ma'am? I confess I have seen little sign of it, but perhaps I have not been here."

"They..." Cinderella hesitated for a moment, reaching for specific examples and coming up short. "They...Angelique and Marinette were very kind yesterday when I was in...a very embarrassing predicament. They helped me and concealed my...I'm afraid you'll have to take my word for it, but they were very kind."

"And if I may, ma'am, Mademoiselle Gerard and Mademoiselle Bonnet are the two who show you the most in the way of proper respect and deference."

"Duchamp, are you suggesting that Serena, Grace, Theodora and Augustina aren't my friends?" Cinderella asked. "What then? Do you think that they don't like me?" She shook her head. That couldn't be true, it wasn't possible. She had lived with malice for many long years, she knew it's colours and its appearance well, she had heard its voice on many occasions. She had lived, day and night, with the dislike and the disdain of her stepsisters. Anastasia and Drizella had never troubled to pretend to be her friends, even when they were children their dislike - though sufficiently muted to escape Papa's notice - had been clear. They had never been nice to her. Though sometimes the extent of their hostility had varied it had never seemed like kindness. It seemed absurd to her to imply that her ladies could be hiding such malice behind fair faces. Nobody who disliked her ever bothered to hide the fact. "And besides," she continued. "Even if you were right and they are not my friends, if I want to win them over shouldn't I start by treating them with friendship? I don't want to be a stern mistress, I don't want to make my enemies resent or dislike me. I want...I don't want to be alone."

Duchamp's expression softened. "I understand, ma'am, but...it strikes me that a friendship can withstand the word 'no' uttered every once in a while. If it cannot, if it requires a constant stream of gifts and indulges however much they trespass on your comfort, is it really worth the cost?"

Before she could give any answer to that, Cinderella was interrupted by Theodora's voice coming from the doorway. "Cindy! Can I have a word with you?"

Duchamp coughed mildly, but Cinderella ignored it as she shuffled round to face Theodora. _It's just a name, there's nothing to it. It doesn't mean anything; it certainly doesn't mean disrespect._ She smiled, and rested her fingertips upon her knees as she crossed her legs demurely. "Of course, Theodora, what's the matter?"

"Theo, please Cindy, you must call me Theo," Theodora declared as she walked in. She glanced sideways at Duchamp. "I was, um, hoping that we might talk in private."

"Oh, but I need Duchamp to help me finish getting ready," Cinderella murmured.

"It won't talk long, I promise," Theodora said. "And...well, this really isn't the sort of thing that should be bandied about in front of the servants."

 _A friendship can withstand the word 'no' uttered every once in a while._ Maybe that was true, but Cinderella saw no purpose in making Theodora feel uncomfortable, perhaps unable to properly confide in her, simply for the sake of making a high-handed point about Cinderella's authority. "Duchamp, would you please give us a moment. I'll ring for you when we're finished."

If Duchamp was irritated by this she gave no sign of it, but simply curtsied and said, "As you wish, ma'am." And then she departed, shutting the door behind her.

Theodora smiled briefly. "You may not be quite ready yet but you're already looking lovely today, Cindy. A little informal, but lovely all the same."

"Thank you, Theodora, that's very kind of you."

"And here is your necklace back. Thank you so much for letting me borrow it."

"That's quite alright," Cinderella murmured, as she took the necklace from Theodora's outstretched hand and deposited it back inside her jewellery box. She looked back at her lady in waiting, waiting somewhat awkwardly in front of her. "Shall we go into the sitting room? Then you can sit down as well."

"Thank you, Cindy, that would be perfect," Theodora said, and no sooner had Cinderella stood up then Theodora took her by the arm and led her out of the bedroom, through the dressing room and into the sitting room where she steered Cinderella onto the settee and then desposited herself down beside her.

"Now, what is it, Theodora?" Cinderella asked. "What did you want to say to me that had to be said in private?"

Theodora hesitated for moment, her fingers pitter-pattering up and down Cinderella's arm like spiders crawling up her skin. "You need to get rid of Angelique," she said.

Cinderella's eyebrows rose. "Get…get rid of her. Whatever do you mean?"

"Get ride of her!" Theodora repeated. "Sling her out, the brute! Send her packing! Toss her back where she came from! Get rid of her!"

"But why?"

"Because she attacked me last night!" Theodora cried in tones of aggrieved outrage. "Honestly, Cindy, she's just not suitable to be a companion to the princess, behaving like that. I just…I honestly don't feel safe around her any more."

Cinderella frowned. _Angelique attacked Theodora?_ That didn't sound right at all. "I know that Angelique can be a little rough around the edges, but I can't believe that she'd do a thing like that, are you sure that this isn't some sort of misunderstanding, or-"

"She leapt on me in the middle of the night and held my mouth shut while she threatened me!" Theodora shrieked. "I thought I was going to suffocate! I didn't know what she had planned for me. Please, Cindy, send her away. I can't bear to be around her, I'm terrified. And who knows who she might hurt next, you could be in serious danger if you don't do something."

Cinderella kept on frowning as he got up off the settee and walked across the sitting room towards the bell-pull (every room had one, as it would have been very inconvenient for her to have gone back to the bedroom every time she needed someone, and the princess of Armorique could not be inconvenienced in any way, could she?).

"What are you doing?" Theodora asked.

"I'm going to ask Angelique about this," Cinderella said, as she pulled on the rope. "And see what she has to say."

"Why?" Theodora said, looking both mystified and a little bit scared. "She'll just lie and deny everything."

"Perhaps," Cinderella admitted, although she very much hoped that Angelique would be better than that. Still more did she hope that it would all turn out to be some enormous misunderstanding on the part of Theodora because…well, because honestly she liked Angelique, and if it turned out that she was violent, and Cinderella had to send her away…then she would be very sad. "But I want to give her the opportunity to tell me the truth. I owe her that, at least."

Theodora looked decidedly unconvinced. "She's wild and fey and dangerous. You'd best have some guard about you, Cindy, in case she uses her alley-cat wiles upon us."

Cinderella couldn't suppress a slight chuckle at the thought of Angelique's 'alley-cat wiles'. "I'm sure that you're exaggerating just a little bit, Theodora." She decided not to mention that there was little point calling for her guard to protect her from Angelique when her guard was Angelique's best friend. _Jean would never hurt me. But he'd definitely never hurt Angelique either. And I could never ask him too._

It took only a few moments for Paulette to arrive in response to Cinderella's summons. "You rang, ma'am."

"Yes, Paulette," Cinderella said. "Could you find Angelique and ask her to come up and see me, please?"

Paulette curtsied. "Of course, ma'am."

Paulette left as swiftly as she had arrived, and Cinderella and Theodora were left to wait for Angelique to get the message and come up to them.

Theodora fiddled with her hands. "You do believe me, don't you Cindy? You don't think I'm lying to you. Because I'm not, you know, and I never would. Lie to you, I mean." She took Cinderella by the hand and by the arm above the elbow. "I would never lie to you, Cindy. You mean too much to me."

Cinderella hesitated. _I so very much want to believe you._ "Why?"

"Pardon?"

"Why do I mean so much to you?" Cinderella asked. "You barely know me."  
Theodora smirked. "You believe in love at first sight, don't you? You and His Highness didn't have time to grow into love all in the space of a single night now, did you?"

"No," Cinderella said wistfully. "But…the tree that bloomed at first sight grew larger with rain and sunshine later on."

"But it bloomed at first sight nonetheless," Theodora replied. "If love can do so, why not friendship? Can you honestly say that there isn't a spark between us?"

"I, uh," Cinderella wasn't sure what to say in response. She had no idea what the proper answer was. Theodora looked so eager, so desperate that Cinderella very much wanted to say yes in order to make her happy. But was it true? Did she feel a spark comparable to that she had felt when Eugene had touched her hand and she had whirled around in surprised only to be captivated by those deep brown eyes? Honestly…no, no she did not. Or at least she didn't think she did. She had very little idea what a spark of 'friendship at first sight' would feel like. And yet she had to feel something because…because Theodora was her friend. Theodora was her friend and she knew that because…because she wanted friends so very badly.

 _Have I been fooling myself?_

 _No. No, just because I don't feel a spark doesn't mean that we're not friends, and that we can't become better friends. These things need time to grow, just like Eugene's affection for me and mine for him. Rain and sunshine will see it blossom._

"You asked to see me?"

Cinderella looked around. Angelique had entered the room stealthily, or else Cinderella had been so lost in her own thoughts that she just hadn't noticed her come in, and now she stood facing the two of them on the settee with her back straight and her hands clasped behind her back, looking as though she had just been called to the headmaster's office.

In a way, Cinderella supposed that she had.

"Yes, I did, Angelique, thank you for coming so quickly," Cinderella said. "Please, sit down."

"I'd rather not, if that's alright," Angelique murmured, glowering at Theodora.

Theodora glared right back.

Cinderella swallowed. "Very well," she murmured. "I…Angelique, Theodora has made a very serious accusation about your behaviour. I'd like to give you the chance to explain, if you can."

"I don't understand," Angelique said quietly.

"It means I told her what you did to me last night!" Theodora shrieked. "I told her that you went into my room and attacked me."

"No I didn't!" Angelique exclaimed.

"Yes, you did, you lying little rat, you sat on me and held my mouth closed!"

Angelique snorted. "That's not an attack, that was just giving you a little friendly advice. If I'd attacked you wouldn't be looking so healthy now."

Cinderella gasped. "Angelique! You mean…you mean that what Theodora says is absolutely true."

Theodora's face was a picture of glee. Angelique, on the other hand, looked absolutely undaunted as she said, "Yes, it's true. If that's what she says I did then I did it."

"Angelique," Cinderella murmured, letting her disappointment leech into her voice like a stream flowing into a river. "That was…that was so very _wrong_ of you. I hope you realise how disappointed I am. Why on earth would you do such a thing?"

"Because she's an uncivilised little savage who ought to go back to whatever gutter she crawled out of," Theodora muttered.

"Theodora, please," Cinderella said. _That was very unkind. I don't think I've ever heard her speak so unkindly of anyone before._

 _Before…in the whole two days that I've known her._

 _You had these doubts once before, and everything turned out to be fine. If you had been hasty then you wouldn't now be married. Instead you gave Eugene a chance, and look at all that's happened since. You'd now be miserable without him._

 _Will it be the same with Theodora?_

"Angelique," she said. "Why did you do it?"

Angelique pursed her lips together. She shuffled her feet on the floor. "I…I'd rather not say."  
Cinderella frowned. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist. If you have a reason, you must tell me, or else…"

"You don't need to know why, Cindy," Theodora said quickly. "Isn't it enough that she confessed and now-"

"I did it because you needed it, because you deserved it," Angelique snapped. "She's the one who shut you up in your wardrobe yesterday morning! I warned her off from doing anything like that again."

An involuntary gasp escaped from Cinderella's mouth as it hung open for a moment. "She…shut me in the…" _Let me out! Somebody open this door!_ And of course that somebody had been Angelique. Cinderella remembered the feel of Angelique's arms around her, small but comforting in her distress. "But…but you told me that that was an accident."

"She's lying!" Theodora cried. "She's trying to make excuses for her-"

"Shut your mouth and get your hands off her," Angelique snarled, taking a step forward that made Theodora yelp in panic. Angelique took a deep breath. "Yes, princess, it's true. Marinette told you that it was an accident…but it wasn't. When we came in, we found that someone had wedged a chair against the door to stop you getting out. Marinette didn't want to tell you that…she didn't want to upset you by telling you that someone had done that on purpose. And I…I went along with that." She pointed aggressively at Theodora. "But when I heard her talking to Augustina about what she'd done and laughing about it, well…I couldn't stand by and do nothing. So I decided to give her a warning, about something that would make her think twice before doing it again."

"That…that is the most barefaced calumny that I ever heard in all my years!" Theodora declared. "I never…I don't even know what she's talking about."  
"Liar!"

"I'm not the one who changed my story, am I?"

 _Theodora isn't wrong there,_ Cinderella thought. _If Angelique had told me this to begin with…_

 _But she's right, it would have upset me._

 _It is…it's already upsetting me and I don't even know if it's true yet._

It was strange, and absurd on its face, but the thought was actually more hurtful to Cinderella than the attempt upon her life had been. Yes, one would have killed her and the other would only have embarrassed her, but at least in the shooting she could console herself that it had been work of someone who didn't know her personally, acting out of zeal for some nebulous cause. But someone who knew her had nevertheless disliked her enough to do that to her. _I didn't think I was nasty enough to deserve that. I thought I treated everyone rather well._

"Marinette will tell you the truth," Angelique declared. "Marinette will confirm what I've said."

"Well, Augustina will tell you that we never had this conversation that your suggesting that you overheard," Theodora replied. "And without that you don't have any proof that I did this…this thing that I don't even know what you're talking about."

Marinette and Augustina were duly sent for, and the silence as the three women waited for their arrival was acutely embarrassing for Cinderella, who scarcely knew where to look as Angelique and Theodora glowered at one another with unrestrained hostility between them.

Thankfully, the two did not take very long to join them in the sitting room. Augustina's face was blank of expression, while Marinette looked a little nervous. She looked, in fact, more nervous than Angelique, and she wasn't being accused of anything.

 _Except lying to me._

"You summoned us, Cinderella?" Augustina asked.

"Yes," Cinderella said softly. "Marinette, I'm only going to ask you this once: was it an accident that I ended up stuck in my wardrobe yesterday?"

Marinette glanced down at Angelique.

"It's important that you tell me the truth," Cinderella said.

Marinette looked uncomfortable. "No. It wasn't. We found a chair wedged against the wardrobe door. So someone had obviously shut the doors on you and lodged the chair there to keep you trapped."

 _Let me out! Somebody open this door!_

Cinderella bowed her head. Just thinking about it made her chest heave and her breathing quicken. "I see…you should have told me that right away, both of you."

Marinette began to speak. "We-"

"I appreciate what you thought you were doing," Cinderella said. "But I would rather face the truth than be protected by lies. I hope you didn't think I was so fragile that I couldn't bear it."

"I'm sorry, highness."

"That doesn't prove that I did this awful thing," Theodora said. "It just proves that somebody did, but I would never treat you that way, Cindy, you can't think that I did. As like as not it was one of you two who did it and now you're looking to blame me for your own actions!"

"Augustina," Cinderella said. "Did Theodora tell you what she had done? Did she tell you that she had…that she me up in the wardrobe?"

Augustina's expression didn't waver for an instant. "No."

"No? You didn't talk about it at all."

"I didn't know that it had happened until just now," Augustina replied. "I'm very sorry, by the way. You had a rough day yesterday, didn't you?"

Theodora looked smug in her victory. "There, you see Cindy? This urchin here is lying through her back teeth to excuse her-"

"I'm not lying!" Angelique snapped. "Jean was there, he heard it too. He'll tell you."

"Oh, very convenient," Theodora crowed. "That the other witness is your little-"

"Please, Theodora, that's quite enough," Cinderella said. _She isn't normally like this. Or am I only now seeing the real her._ Either way, she found that she didn't really like it.

She turned her thoughts away from that, and on to the question of what was to be done. It was difficult. Difficult for her at least. She felt as though she were being torn in two, like a doll shared between two sisters. She had watched more than one doll or stuffed bear be ripped in half in exactly that way by Anastasia and Drizella as they fought over the playthings until arms separated from bodies. In just such a way did she feel torn between Theodora and Angelique.

On the one hand, the weight of the evidence was not on Angelique's side. She believed that someone had shut her up in the wardrobe – as much as it made her feel ill to contemplate the idea of someone she knew doing that to her – but she had no proof that Theodora had done the deed. Cinderella strongly suspected that Angelique was lying about Jean having been with her, although she suspected equally strongly that Jean would lie for her if he was put to it. And of course, even if Theodora was the guilty party it still wouldn't excuse what Angelique had done.

On the other hand…on the other hand Cinderella liked Angelique, not to mention that the young girl had saved her life. It didn't seem like her to do something like this without cause. And…and Theodora did make her feel a little uncomfortable at times.

 _A friendship can withstand the word 'no' uttered every once in a while._

"Angelique, what you did was very wrong, and I hope that you realise and understand that," Cinderella said. "I believe that you thought you had a good reason for behaving in such a way, but that doesn't justify your behaviour. I don't want it, or anything like it to happen again." She looked away from Angelique to Theodora. "Now, I would like you both to put all this behind you and make up, and move forward as better friends in future."

The euphoric expression of victory slid off Theodora's face like treacle coming out of its jar. Theodora's face contorted into so many expressions that it might almost have been funny if some of them hadn't been so very angry. Some of the faces that Theodora briefly made, and passed through as if they were masks that she was trying on to see which suited her best, were so furious that they reminded Cinderella of her stepsisters in the full bloom of their wrath, when Cinderella had done something that displeased them.

That wasn't something that Cinderella wanted to be reminded of. It...it frightened her, just a little.

Theodora's face calmed down. Her eyes stopped bulging. She even managed to smile. "Cindy, could we please speak privately again?"

Cinderella would have much preferred it if Theodora had at least made an attempt to reconcile with Angelique over what Cinderella was sure...at least, over what Cinderella would have liked to believe, was nothing more than a misunderstanding on Angelique's part. But she supposed...it was wrong, what Angelique had done, and she couldn't blame Theodora too much for not putting it behind her in an instant. [i]After all, can I honestly say that I have forgiven my Stepmother, or Anastasia and Drizella, for what they've done to me? Can I really demand that Theodora do what I cannot?[/i] If a private conversation was what was necessary to get Theodora to place where she could tolerate Angelique's presence, then it would be worth it.

So Cinderella nodded. "Of course, Theodora. That will be all, thank you."

Augustina curtsied. "We are at your service."

"Angelique, Marinette," Cinderella said, as they turned away. "Please...you may have meant well, but please don't lie to me again."

Marinette's face reddened. "No, your...I won't. I'm sorry." She left with a little unseemly haste, as though she were fleeing the scene of her embarassment. Angelique was not far behind her.

Cinderella and Theodora were alone in the sitting room. In all of Cinderella's luxuriant rooms there were no humans beings besides themselves.

"Now, Theodora," Cinderella said. "What is it that you'd like to say?"

"Cindy," Theodora whispered, drawing out the word into an almost serpentine hiss. "Cindy, Cindy, Cindy," she reached out, and with the bony fingers of one hand she played with the pearls around Cinderella's neck, tugging them first one way and then the other. "You really do look very pretty today."

"Thank you," Cinderella murmured, trying to ignore the slight feeling of discomfort as her necklace tugged upon her neck.

"Such a pretty girl," Theodora said. "A pretty, smiling, dress-up doll. Looking at you now...who would believe the things you went through. In that awful house, with that awful family. What was it like?"

Cinderella looked down at her hands in her lap. "I...I'd rather not talk about it."

"But I would," Theodora said, as she grabbed Cinderella by the arm and squeezed a little tighter than was necessary or comfortable. "Please, Cindy, explain it to me: what was it like?"

Cinderella looked up into Theodora's eyes. She couldn't read what she saw written there, but it didn't look particularly pleasant. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Because I want to know," Theodora whispered. "I want to know why, if it was so awful, you lived with it. Why didn't you escape? Why didn't you run away? Why didn't you do something instead of just bearing this awful, awful misery?"

"And go where?" Cinderella asked. "And done what?"

"Wouldn't anything or anywhere have been better than that terrible house, and that terrible family?" Theodora demanded. "Unless...unless it wasn't really as bad as all that."

Cinderella shook her head. "Is that what you think, Theodora? That I lied about how bad it was in my Stepmother's house? Why would I do that, for sympathy?" Cinderella shuffled to the edge of the settee, and began to rise to her feet. "I try not to tell lies, and I don't appreciate being called a liar. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I need to finish getting ready before-"

"Sit down, Cindy," Theodora snapped, pulling her backwards. Cinderella gasped as she was dragged back onto the settee in a disordered sprawl. Theodora's hands dug painfully into her arm and wrist. "You can't dismiss me before we're finished talking."

Cinderella winced. "Theodora, you're hurting me."

"We all get hurt, at one time or another," Theodora replied breezily. "The truth is, Cindy, I don't think you're a liar. I think you're weak. A weak little maiden waiting for a knight in shining armour to come and rescue her. Rather pathetic, really."

"I tried-"

"You tried? Oh, I'm sure you did, Cindy. I'm sure you tried so hard. But the weak can never accomplish anything no matter how hard they try. Only the efforts of the strong can possibly bear fruit."

Cinderella squirmed in Theodora's iron grip. "Who are you? I thought that-"

"That we were friends? That I liked you?" Theodora chuckled darkly. "Oh, Cindy...so naive." With one hand she snatched the engagement ring off Cinderella's finger.

"Theodora!" Cinderella exclaimed.

"Oh, you don't mind, do you Cindy?" Theodora asked. She turned the sparkling ring over and over in her fingers. "Such a pretty thing. Nearly as lovely as you are. She let go of Cinderella's arm for a moment, and tried to slip the ring onto her finger. "Look, it nearly fits." She smiled, and there was something almost sad about that smile. "Almost...but not quite." She tossed the ring away, it bounced on the carpet twice before stopping. Cinderella could see it glimmering by the doorway.

Cinderella tried to go and get it, but Theodora grabbed hold of her again and held her fast on the settee.

"I was there, that night, you know," Theodora said. "I was presented to His Highness. He's such a handsome man. As I walked down that carpet I could feel the eyes of the whole ballroom upon me. I was nervous but, at the same time, I felt so confident. I was ready for this. I'd spent so long getting myself ready, making sure I looked perfect. When I reached the prince I was sure, I was certain, that I would be the one. I would succeed where all others had failed." Theodora smirked. "And then he bowed, and I realised that he didn't really see me at all. But he saw you."

Cinderella's widened. "It was true, wasn't it? What Angelique said."

"That I shut the wardrobe doors? Yes," Theodora admitted. "Would you like to go in there again?"

Cinderella shook her head frantically. "No, Theodora, please, no." She tried futilely to pull away. "Let me go. Let me go! I'll tell Eugene-"

"No, you won't," Theodora said certainly. "I know you won't, and you know you won't. You won't tell him because you know what we all know: that Prince Eugene doesn't care about you. You're a doll to him, something to be shown off at parties. You're just waiting for the day that he gets tired of you, or just gags your mouth so he doesn't have to listen to you any more, aren't you?"

"No," Cinderella whispered.

Theodora's smirk was ugly as sin. "That isn't conviction that I hear in your voice, Cindy." She leaned forward. "You're trapped here, Cindy, just as you were trapped in that old house of yours. You're trapped, and all alone, and you don't have the strength to escape."

Cinderella's breathing was ragged. "What do you want?"

"I want that little gutter rat Angelique gone from here and in a workhouse somewhere until she's old or dead or both," Theodora snarled. "And I'm going to get it, because you're going to get rid of her."

"No-"

"Yes," Theodora snapped. "Because you know what will happen to you if you don't, don't you!" Theodora's lip curled into a sneer. "You thought you were better than me, didn't you? Well you're not, and you're going to do what I say from now on, aren't you? Aren't you?"

Cinderella nodded. "Yes," she cried. "Yes, yes I will Theodora, just please...please let me go."

Theodora smiled. "Well of course I will, Cindy," she said in a sweet voice as she let go of Cinderella's arm. "Now, I'll leave you to finish getting ready before you take care of our little Angelique problem. After all, you look like you need to freshen up." She chuckled at her own wit as she rose to her feet. "Don't worry, Cindy, everything is going to be just fine."

* * *

Theodora hummed to herself as contemplated the look on Angelique's face as they came to take her away to the workhouse. Would she scream? Would she shout? Would she sob and plead for mercy as they dragged her away? _I wonder if they'll let me watch? I might tell Cindy that I want to._

Breaking her had proven even easier than Theodora had expected, and she had never expected it to be hard. The girl really had no spine at all. One feeble threat of 'I'll tell my husband' - feeble because everyone knew that he didn't really care for her beyond looks, I mean how could he when good looks was all there was to her in the first place - and she had crumbled.

 _If you wanted your threat to pass muster, Cindy, you should never have confessed how terrible insecure you were to us,_ Serena thought. _Don't worry, I'll take you in hand and handle all the difficult decisions from now on._

Yes, there were going to be some changes around here, as Serena and Grace and Gussie would soon find out. To start with, there were a few choices pieces in Cindy's jewellery box that Theo had her eye on that would soon become gifts to her, tokens of friendship between her and the princess. And after that-

Theodora jumped as her door was thrown open to slam against the wall.

"Mademoiselle de la Tour!" the voice that issued from the doorway was strange to her, yet she recognised the tone of fury sharpened to a point like a spear.

Theodora turned round, feeling a chill of trepidation flutter in her stomach like some kind of arctic butterfly. A boy stood in her doorway, that little boy that Cindy had picked up to go with Angelique, what was his name. Her bodyguard, who had 'saved her' yesterday. What was his name...Jaq? Jaime? Jean? Yes, Jean, Theo was almost certain that his name was Jean. Or perhaps Jean-something. Jean-Luc, maybe. Anyway, Jean (if that was his name) had just slammed her door open and now he glowered at her, one hand resting on his sword and his whole body shaking, as two soldiers without weapons stood behind him, only half visible through the doorway.

That arctic butterfly in Theodora's stomach was getting colder by the moment. "What is the meaning of this?" Theo demanded.

Jean scowled. "Mademoiselle de la Tour," he repeated, in a tone that suggested a man clinging to his courtesy by the fingernails. "I must ask you to accompany me at once."

"Accompany you?" Theodora repeated. "Accompany you where, boy?"

"To a night in the cells, if I had my way," Jean barked. "But as things are, a carriage is waiting to take you home. Your belongings will be sent on after you, at a suitable point."

"Take me...what in the devil is this?" Theodora demanded. "By whose authority?"

"By royal command," Jean replied, utterly without mercy. "And now, Mademoiselle, I must insist."

"No," Theodora replied. "No, there has been some mistake. I demand to be allowed to speak to Princess Cinderella, until then-"

"Corporal Adragain, Private Peries, remove this woman from the palace," Jean snapped, gesturing at Theodora with the imperious disdain of a Roman Caesar sentencing a Christian to death. He stepped back to allow his soldiers to pass through the door.

"No. No!" Theodora shrieked as they grabbed her by the arms. "Let go! Get your hands off me! Do you know I am! My father commands the First Battalion of the Household-"

"Your father serves His Majesty the King," Jean declared. "As do we all."

"How dare you do this?" Theodora raged as the two soldiers began to manhandle her out of her room. "Unhand me you lowborn oafs! When the princess finds out about this...Cindy! Cindy!"

"There's no need to shout, Theodora," Cinderella as Theodora was dragged out into the corridor. Her voice was as soft as a summer breeze. "I can hear you."

Theodora's eyes widened. Cinderella was not alone, standing outside her room. Prince Eugene was with her, one arm around the waist of the woman he had chosen over Theodora. He saw Theodora now, he saw her with eyes filled with disgust and unconcealed hostility. Cinderella, by contrast, looked sad; but she met Theodora's eyes without flinching. That...that surprised Theo. She hadn't thought Cindy would have the courage.

And behind them both lurked Angelique, looking unbearably smug.

"C-C-Cindy," Theodora murmured. "Wh-what's going on?"

"I'm sorry, Theodora," Cindy said. "I don't think there is a place for you in my household. I really wish it could have been otherwise."

"I...I don't understand," Theodora whimpered.

"You have threatened, abused and attempted to humiliate my wife," Eugene snapped. "There are consequences from such insolence. You should thank Cinderella for the consequences being so minor."

 _I...I still don't understand._ How had this happened, how had spineless Cindy found the nerve to do this to her, how had Theo so completely misread her? What was going on? "You told him."

Cinderella's back straightened. "The answer to your question, Theodora, is that I stayed in that house because I had nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to and no other choice but to endure, and try not to let them see how much they hurt me.

"But I'm not without choices any more. I have someone to turn to. I'm not trapped and I'm not alone. I'm loved and I'm happy and you can't intimidate me. And my name is Cinderella."

Theodora's mouth hung open as they dragged her away. She had lost. She had lost...everything. Once word of this got out her name would be cast into disgrace. And her father...oh, lord, her father... What a fool she had been. How stupidly behaved. But she had been so sure. She been so certain. Everything about Cinderella's past spoke to weakness, her behaviour spoke to lack of backbone, she'd let everyone walk all over her...but now this?

 _How could I have been so wrong? How did I make such a mistake?_

* * *

Cinderella wanted to be sick. She could barely stand here, and watch as Theodora was consigned to oblivion upon her instructions. Well...it was upon her word, anyway. Eugene had given the command, but only once she had told him what Theodora had done.

And it was she who had persuaded him, incensed though he was, not to do anything too harsh. Theodora would be removed from her service, and barred from the palace until further notice, but she would suffer no other penalty. Cinderella didn't want to be vindictive or vengeful...she just wanted the other woman gone.

 _I thought she was my friend,_ Cinderella thought. _I thought that we could be so close._

 _Where they all lying? Are all my ladies just...just lying to me? Do they all hold me in contempt, the way Serena did?_

 _Have I no friends left at all?_

She could barely stand to be here. She didn't want to see this. She didn't want to be anywhere near it. But Cinderella knew that she had to be here, she had to watch, she had to look Theodora in the eye...or she would prove the other girl right about what a coward she was.

And so she made herself stand as still as a statue, or one of the suits of armour that lined so many palace corridors, as Jean and his men removed Theodora from her life.

"And good riddance," Angelique muttered as Theodora disappeared from view.

"Angelique," Cinderella murmured.

"Yes, Princess?"

"What you did was still wrong," Cinderella said. "I hope you understand that. But...thank you, for what you tried to do for me. Your intent was very kind."

"Your...your welcome, Princess," Angelique said. She curtsied awkwardly, and retreated out of the way.

Eugene took his hand off her waist to run her arm. "Was that difficult for you?"

Cinderella did not respond in words. Rather she turned and wrapped her arms around his waist, and buried her face against his chest. The velvet of his suit was soft against her skin.

She felt his arms enfold her. "Cinderella, can I ask you a question."

"Yes," Cinderella murmured.

"Did it ever occur to you not to tell me? Did you hesitate for even a moment."

Cinderella hesitated now to answer whether she had hesitated then. She ought to tell him the truth. He deserved the truth. What was the point in revealing all her secrets only to build up a whole host of new ones. _And I told Theodora that I didn't like to lie._ "Yes," she confessed. "Yes, for a moment...I thought she might be right in everything she said. A part of me was afraid...I think a part of me will always be afraid that...that I'm nothing but a doll to you, that you'll grow bored with me, or..."

She felt his kiss upon her head, gentle and warm. "And always that part of you will be proved wrong, I swear it."

Cinderella smiled. "Perhaps. But even when we're old and grey and wrinkled there'll be a voice in my head telling me you only love me for my beauty."

Eugene chuckled. "You did the right thing. Without a doubt."

"I suppose I was foolish to expect that my ladies and I would be instant friends," Cinderella said. "I suppose I was foolish just to think that they would all want to be friends with me." _I was especially foolish to think that they would all be absolutely what they appeared to be._ After all, she herself was not always exactly what she seemed. There were things about herself that she kept hidden from the world, or parts of it. Why should her ladies not keep things from her?

She just hoped that the secrets of Serena and the rest did not include a hidden ill-opinion of her.

Eugene rubbed her back. "I would dearly love to tell you that you couldn't have known any better, Cinderella, but the truth is...the truth is-"

"That I'm a fool?"

"That you were perhaps a little naive," Eugene replied. "You are the sweetest girl I have ever met and I love you for it, but what you're telling me - apart from that juvenile prank with the wardrobe - is not unexpected. We are royalty, we have things in our gift and our possession that other people want and so it's far from surprising that those who want what we can give adopt a fawning manner towards us and seek to curry our favour. That's why we have to be a little discerning in our choice of companions; why do you think I only have one truly close friend in the world?"

"Because he is the only one you know you can trust," Cinderella murmured. "But how did you know that? Or realise it?"

"The fact that he doesn't ask me for favours very often is a point in his favour," Eugene said. "Although the truth is that he could ask for far more than he does and I wouldn't begrudge him. It...it's what he has done for me, what he does for me, that shows his loyalty."

Cinderella nodded. She could see the sense in that, even as she had to concede that deeds done for her by the majority of her ladies were thin upon the ground. "You didn't mention any of this to me before?"

"I'm your husband, Cinderella, not your father. It isn't my place to tell you who you should associate with." He smiled. "If it were I would strongly discourage you against Lucien Gerard."

"He's a much better person than you think he is."

"He's a model of the exact type of person we've been discussing," Eugene replied. "But, as I said, it's not my place to forbid you from seeing him or anything of the sort. And for the same reason I didn't say anything about your ladies or anyone else. That and...I suppose I...I hoped that things would turn out differently for you. I suppose I was a little naive myself, but...I didn't want you to be lonely."

"I hoped that as well," Cinderella murmured. "Do you think...do you think I can trust the others? Or do you think that...that they're all decieving me as well?"

"I don't know," Eugene confessed. "Only you can decide that, Cinderella. If you wish to trust them, then do so. But please be careful. I don't want you to be lonely, and I don't want to turn you cynical for no good reason...but even less than either of those do I want you to get hurt."

* * *

Augustina du Bois sat in her room and seethed. _Stupid, stupid Theo!_ She had always been hot-tempered and prone to taking her frustrations out on other people, but Augustina honestly thought that she would have had the sense to show some restraint when dealing with the princess.

Apparently that had been too much to expect from her.

 _And I don't suppose you ever considered the kind of position you were putting me in with this behaviour?_ Probably not. Theo was nothing if not self-centred.

And now she was gone, and Augustina had to live with the consequences of having lied to defend Theo's reputation...a reputation she had thrown off the balcony mere moments later.

 _There is still no proof I lied, of course._ But the fact that Theo had admitted to having done the thing that Angelique accused her of made the rest of her accusations more plausible, and Theo having admitted to the deed raised the question of why Angelique would lie about how she had discovered that Theo had done the deed. Augustina had denied that any conversation between them had taken place because, well because Theo had been at finishing school with her and Angelique, by contrast, was not 'one of us'; but with hindsight, the safer and wiser course would have been to drop Theo in it.

 _Not that anyone likes a tattletale, of course._ Still, there was no getting around the fact that it left Augustina in a somewhat iniquitous position. She fancied she could hear the ice cracking beneath her feet.

 _What am I going to do now? Or should I ask, what is Cinderella going to do with me?_ Augustina bore the princess no malice, but neither did she bare her any great affection. Loyalty, as her father was wont to say, must be earned. The officer who demands it as a perk of his rank will soon find himself without either loyalty or respect. So far, Cinderella had not earned Augustina's loyalty...but she had not quite earned Augustina's disrespect, either.

Of course, it wasn't loyalty that Cinderella was after really. It was affection that she seemed to want, though Augustina couldn't quite decide if she was demanding it, which would have been arrogant, or begging for it, which would have been pathetic. At the moment, Augustina's opinion on the new princess was a decided neutral...but she might well find herself under suspicion of being far more negative as a result of trying to help Theodora out.

 _Stupid, stupid Theo._

 _Stupid me._

* * *

 _Dear Anatole,_ Serena wrote. _Our little princess has turned out to have sharper claws than I ever would have suspected._

Serena dipper her quill into the inkwell on her desk. Where some people kept diaries, Serena wrote to her brother. Every day, most of the time, and sometimes more than once a day in the heat of events. It not only helped her to get her thoughts down, but Anatole had the advantage over a diary in that he could actually write back and provide invaluable advice.

That was how they were able to coordinate Lucien's absurd campaign of seduction against Cinderella without ever coming into suspicious contact. Anatole would assist Lucien in his quixotic quest, and Serena would take time away from squeezing Cinderella like a sponge for money, offices and honours long enough to guide her down the right path of reactions that would implicate her in an adultery scandal.

That, at least, had been the plan. Recent events might necessitate a bit of a reappraisal of that approach.

 _Cinderella has dispensed with the services of Theodora after the latter tried to threaten her into obedience. Theodora always was an idiot, as I'm sure you remember._

An idiot who had made things harder for Serena, and for Grace too if Serena's suspicions were correct. Now that Theodora had been proven false, would not all of them who put on such a manner of jovial affection come under suspicion for similar falsehood.

Serena's pen scratched over the paper as she described what she knew of the circumstances of Theodora's fall from grace. _As far as my own position is concerned, as difficult as things may be for me I consider myself bound to this course. I dare not deviate from it._ After all, when you were (possibly) under suspicion of having feigned your behaviour the worst thing you could possibly do was abruptly change the way that you behaved. To do so would only confirm all those who thought that you were putting on a performance. Serena would have to play the role that she had set for herself, and play it to perfection what was more, until any suspicions that Cinderella might harbour were allayed and she believed that Serena was exactly the good friend she appeared to be.

It might be a good idea to back off from some of the more absurd hyperbole, however, if that could be managed; Cinderella might be more sensitive to over the top shameless flattery by now.

Of course, it was a wonder that Cinderella had been so susceptible to it before, but Serena concluded that she was just so starved of affection that she was willing to lap up anything, no matter the source.

 _I am confident that, being considerably cleverer than Theodora and infinitely more subtle, I can avoid the fate visited upon her. But who would have thought that Cinderella had it in her to inflict such a punishment, even on someone who wronged her?_

 _She might be stronger than I gave her credit for being._

 _This might just be interesting._

* * *

 _A/N: I won't lie, the entire point of this chapter is just to get that moment were Cinderella, in her very demure and Cinderella way, tells Theodora to f*** off._

 _Although I havered back and forth on how exactly to get to that point (at one stage, Theodora was going to smash the glass slipper in an act of petty spite), I eventually decided on the most direct approach._

 _Fun news: a fellow called epis00n encouraged me to check out a website called Starcatcher . org, which is kind of like fanfiction for Choose Your Own Adventure stories, and as a result of his encouragement, there is now a nascent CYOA of The Rose and the Crown on that site. It's only in its infancy, but I hope that some of you will stick a pin in it because it might turn out to be a lot of fun once I get more of it written. You 'play' as Cinderella, obviously, and the aim is that you'll be able to either be more successful at some things than Cinderella is in this story by making the right choices, or you can basically be Tsarina Alexandra and precipitate a revolution by doing all the wrong things. Or you could just be a more confident, emotionally outgoing version of Cinderella while not deviating much from the 'canon' plotline._

 _As I said, there's not a lot there right now, but please check it out if you're interested in that sort of thing._


	19. An Assembly of Braying Asses

An Assembly of Braying Asses

 _Dear Anatole,_ Serena wrote. _How are you? I must say I envy you your ability to lead a rakish lifestyle, to carouse and squander your youth (and father's money) the way you do. As a woman, such base pleasures are denied to me, and even more so here, in this place. I suspect that Cinderella, if she ever considered any sort of alternative, expects us all to be flawless paragons of morality._

 _That is less annoying to me (even if Cinderella were inclined to be libertine such behaviour would never be tolerated from her or her ladies, let us be realistic on that point) than it is concerning. How am I to prevent her from squawking her head off in indignation at the mere notion of adultery. She is in love, poor dear, and makes sure that we all know it. Making this bastion of morality behave in such a way as to suggest immorality...I remain confident that I am equal to the task, but it will not be the easiest manipulation in the world._

 _How is Lucien? When is the precious fool going to stop moping and do something about his obsession? When is he going to start to woo the lady?_

 _In the meantime, I have come to the conclusion that one of the best ways to convince people that Cinderella is being naughty is to strip her of anyone who might speak in her defence, or council her in ways that I do not approve of. This should also prove a more fruitful avenue of attacking then attempting to steer Cinderella by brute force as the lamented Theodora attempted. Once Cinderella is all alone, with no friends in the world save myself, then I will need only the lightest touch to steer her on the proper course._

 _As I see it, there are eight people who must be removed from Cinderella's circle for her own good, as they are most unsuitable sorts and quite likely to give her the most appalling advice if left to their own devices:_

 _Marie-Elise Duchamp_

 _Angelique Bonnet_

 _Marinette Gerard (how do you think I might manage this without Lucien growing too upset at Cinderella to continue his pursuit?)_

 _Etienne Gerard (a very marginal case to be sure, as he and Cinderella are not close, but he might fight for his sister if allowed to remain at large, or else foil the plans of his little brother)_

 _Grace du Villiers_

 _Jean Taurillion_

 _Augustina du Bois (better safe than sorry)_

 _Lucrecia Adessi (that's the dressmaker, in case you've forgotten)_

 _I look at that list and I feel rather sorry for Cinderella, having only five friends (I'm not counting Augustina, Etienne or Grace in this list although I admit I might be being too hard on at least one of them); poor Cinderella but lucky me, this would never work if she had a broad social circle._

 _You will, I'm sure, have noticed that this list leaves off Cinderella's most stalwart and powerful supporter, Prince Eugene, but there's not a lot that I can do about that, what with them being married and him being a prince. I hope that once Cinderella's friends are all removed, it will make it easier to drive a wedge between the husband and wife. After all, Iago managed the business well enough._

 _As for the rest, one by one I must bring them all into disgrace or else disfavour, cutting them off from Cinderella until she is solely in my clutches. Of the eight I intend to begin with Etienne Gerard, true he is the least important to Cinderella, but that makes it easier to smear him, and there is already plenty of ammunition to work with._

 _Wish me good fortune, and I will bestow my own wishes upon yourself._

 _You are the only person to whom I can speak with candour and sincerity, and for that I love you,_

 _Serena._

* * *

Cinderella held up her own hair as Duchamp strung the golden chain around her neck. Cinderella could not feel the metal through her high collar, but she could feel the slightly increase in pressure around her neck, and of course she could see the chain and the oval-shaped golden pendant hanging from it, reflected back at her in the mirror.

"Thank you, Duchamp, that gives it just the right touch, don't you think?" Cinderella asked, as she let her hair fall down again.

"Very smart, ma'am, if a little plain," Duchamp murmured.

"There will be plenty of time to dress up tonight, Duchamp," Cinderella replied, as she slipped her wedding ring over her finger. Her engagement ring swiftly followed its more plain but infinitely more precious cousin. "For today, well, I'm going to the Assembly not to a party; I think smart but plain is probably just the thing."

She had decided to take Sieur Robert up on his offer of attending a debate in the Assembly, to see and hear the Chamber of Deputies in action and try to understand Sieur Robert's remark on free trade being impractical. It was not, in Cinderella's opinion, the proper place for elaborate, voluminous gowns bestrewn with ribbons and roses. If she wanted serious men to take her seriously then it would probably behoove her to dress in a somewhat manner; in Cinderella's opinion at least. And so she was dressed in a narrow, ankle length skirt of blue so dark that it verged upon black, revealing a pair of snugly fitting white boots with black toes and black heels that added at least two inches onto Cinderella's modest height; they buttoned up the sides, so there was no risk of them slipping off Cinderella's feet at any time. Her tunic was white, with a high, stiff collar that covered her neck and tickled her chin, with long, puffy sleeves ending in equally long, stiff cuffs. A light blue waistcoat concealed most of the tunic from strangers' eyes, while a golden pendant hung from a chain around her collar. Her hair hung loose, bereft of bow or band to hold it back, tiara or hat to decorate it.

It was no ball gown but it was, in its own way, quite nice. And besides, as Cinderella had reminded Duchamp, there would be plenty of time for dressing up that evening. The reason Eugene was letting her out to attend the debate this afternoon was because he was also taking her out this evening, and Eugene had had to concede that there was as much danger in one as the other; if to leave the palace was dangerous, then all excursions should be prohibited or none. Thankfully Eugene had made the latter choice. Eugene was a patron of the Royal Ballet - something he had mentioned during their honeymoon - and it was his custom to attend the opening night of their first production of the season, which this year would be [i]Swan Lake[/i]. As his wife, Cinderella would of course be joining him.

Having never attended a ballet before, Cinderella found that she was quite looking forward to it. Lady Tremaine had taken her own daugthers once or twice, and they had complained that it was boring and incomprehensible, but with the best will in the world Cinderella could not dismiss from her mind the notion that that said as much about them as about ballet. When it became clear that attending the ballet was not a successful way to meet eligible men, they had stopped going. It had been much the same with opera. In any case, she would find out for herself tonight.

So that would provide her ample opportunity to wear the gowns and gloves that she was missing out on now, and that was without recalling that Lucrecia was due this morning to deliver some new creations.

Cinderella was interrupted from this mingled contemplation of her diary and her wardrobe by a soft knocking at the door. It was Augustina, standing in the doorway with considerable deference in her stance, more than she had displayed yesterday. Her head was a little bowed, although she did not avoid Cinderella's eyes when the latter got up to face her. Her hands were clasped together in front of her, though every so often they split up to smoothe out some non-existent folds in her lavender gown.

Cinderella could not but recognise that posture; it was familiar to her from her years of servitude. _And what does that make me? Have I become my Stepmother so quickly?_ She stood with her feet together, and found herself clasping her hands behind her back for want of something to do with them. "Good morning, Augustina. Is there something I can do for you?"

Augustina pursed her lips. "Your Highness, may I have a word?"

 _Your Highness?_ "Of course, Augustina, come in. Would you like to sit down?"

Augustina stepped lightly into the room. "No, thank you, Your Highness. My father says that it's best to stand up for these sorts of thing, it sets the proper tone."

 _The right tone for what?_ "Is there a reason you're being so formal, Augustina? Is everything alright?" Cinderella asked. She had not been so formal yesterday...when she had denied that Theodora had done something that Theodora later admitted to doing, boasted about doing even. _And what does Augustina want now?_

"My father also says that it's best to use formalities in occasions like this," Augustina replied. "It makes things less personal. I would like to speak privately, however."

Cinderella could not help but remember the last time that one of her ladies-in-waiting had come up here and asked her to send Duchamp away so that they could speak privately: Cinderella had done so, and Theodora had been one step away from physically assaulting her.

 _Augustina isn't Theodora._ But then, Theodora hadn't seemed like Theodora until she got Cinderella alone.

"I...I'd rather that Duchamp stays here, if that's alright," Cinderella murmured. She hated that she wasn't able to trust Augustina, but the fact was...well, the fact was that she could not trust Augustina, not after the way that she had supported Theodora and what Theodora had gone on to do. Any of her other ladies she would have granted the request - or so she told herself, at least - but Augustina...she could not do it, though she loathed her own inability.

Augustina sighed. "As you wish, Your Highness. May I ask...I am aware that my behaviour...how do you...may I inquire as to Your Highness' opinion of me?"

Cinderella was silent for a moment. "Did you lie to me, Augustina?" She thought she already knew the answer.

"No," Augustina replied at once, surprising Cinderella.

"Then Angelique lied about hearing Theodora tell you what she'd done?" Cinderella said. "Why would she do that, when everything else she said was true?"

"I don't know," Augustina said. "Maybe she heard Theodora talking to someone else and thought that it was me? Maybe...I don't know what Angelique heard or why she said what she said but Theodora did not tell me that she had mistreated you in any way."

Cinderella took a step forwards. With one hand she reached out and brushed her fingertips against the wooden post at the corner of her bed. "What I don't understand," she murmured. "Is why none of you told me that she was laughing at me behind my back?"

It was Augustina's turn to momentarily fall silent. "Your Highness, may I speak freely."

"Yes, of course," Cinderella said softly.

"I don't know you," Augustina declared. "I've known Theo since she was a girl. Our fathers know each other, our mothers are friends; we went to finishing school together. Yes, she can be a mean and spiteful little brat, I know. But that's the point: I know her. I don't know you. You come in here, talking about how much you want us all to be friends and such, acting more trusting than a lamb and you have the nerve to surprised when you get taken advantage of?"

"I didn't know-"

"And it isn't my job to educate you in your role," Augustina said sharply. "You won. Congratulations, Your Highness. You got the ring, you got the crown, you got everything that goes with both, good and bad. Why should I choose you over Theo when I don't know you?"

Cinderella half turned away from the other woman. [i]What a fool I was, to think that finding friendship would be easy as wishing for it.[/i] "I see," she murmured. "I suppose...I suppose I should be grateful that you're finally being honest with me."

"I've always been honest with you!" Augustina snapped. "I've never fawned over you, I've never flattered you more extravagantly than you deserved. Unlike some people."

 _More extravagantly than I deserve._ The words echoed around Cinderella's head like the tolling of a great bell. _More extravagantly than I deserve._ She needed no particular intuition to know who Augustina was talking about when she referred to 'some people'...unless it went even further than she thought. "I see. That..." Cinderella was about to dismiss Augustina when she remembered that the other girl was the one who had wanted to talk to her. "Augustina...I don't know if you said what you wanted to say, but would you mind if we left it there, at least for now?"

"Very well, Your Highness," Augustina said, a little stiffly. "Should...should I start packing up my things?"

"What? No," Cinderella said. "I don't...this is my fault, not yours, you shouldn't be punished for it." _Although it may take a while before I can trust you again._ "Augustina...when you go, will you please find Serena and Grace and ask them to come up and see me." _I may as well get this over with, since I seem to have started._

Augustina nodded. "Of course, your highness." She turned to go.

"Augustina," Cinderella called.

Augustina looked back. "Princess?"

"You can still call me Cinderella," Cinderella said. "That is, if you want to." _Just because you aren't my friend doesn't mean that I can't still hope that we will be friends, some day._

Augustina's face was a mask, impenetrable to outside view. "Very well, Princess Cinderella," she said, before she left the room.

 _More extravagantly than I deserve? And what do I deserve? Anything at all?_ Cinderella glanced at the mirror. She could not deny that she liked what she found there: blue eyes, plump lips, soft strawberry hair, fair skin and a soft, round face. When she was a child she had been told that she would grow up to be a great beauty, and now that she was grown up her beauty was praised by Eugene, by her mouse and bird friends, and by her ladies-in-waiting. Her dresses and her jewellery were praised too. _Praised more extravagantly than I deserve?_

A frown creased Cinderella's brow. Eugene would not have fallen in love with a pig in a frog, he would say something if her dresses revolted his eyes...but for the rest...she knew that Angelique and Marinette had already lied to spare her feelings, what if all her friends had adopted the same approach?

Cinderella glanced involuntarily at Duchamp. _More extravagantly than I deserve._

Duchamp coughed. "May I beg your highness' indulgence to tell a story?"

"A...a story?" Cinderella murmured in surprise. "Well...yes, I suppose so."

"There was once a maid who served a lady," Duchamp said. "This lady, bless her, was no great beauty to look upon, nor had she any great wit or discernment to boast of. Nor, poor dear, was she blessed with any particular taste in clothes."

 _Is this about me?_ Cinderella wondered.

"Nevertheless, the lady's maid deemed it best to have a happy and contented mistress," Duchamp continued. "And so she praised her mistress fulsomely: how beautiful she was, how elegant, how refined. Her mistress, lacking in discernment, did not realise the truth and so, believing in her own beauty and the loveliness of her attire, she ventured forth into the beau monde."

 _If this is me I suppose I should be somewhat insulted._ "What happened?" Cinderella asked.

"The lady was made a laughingstock for her poor dress sense, and made sport of her for her looks," Duchamp said. "All her pride was washed away in a deluge of mockery. So do you know what this lady did?"

"No."

"She sacked the maid who had so grievously misled her," Duchamp said flatly.

Cinderella was silent for a moment, then she raised one hand to stifle a chuckle. "You're saying that it wouldn't benefit you to flatter me."

"Quite so, ma'am," Duchamp replied. "Though I would have hoped that my continued exasperation with your hair would have proven that already."

Cinderella giggled. "I will never doubt you again, Duchamp, I promise." _I'll try not to, at least._ "Thank you, Duchamp, that will be all for you. You may go."

"Ma'am?"

"I'll be alright with Serena and Grace," Cinderella said. Even if they were not as friendly as they appeared she did not fear them the way that Augustina's association with Theodora had made her nervous.

"Very good, ma'am," Duchamp said. "Ring if you require anything."

* * *

Serena and Grace arrived not long after Duchamp took her leave, tiptoeing tentatively into the room before Cinderella had a chance to do anything in preparation for their arrival (though of course Cinderella recognised that if she had wanted such time then she shouldn't have told Augustina to fetch them both up to her straight away). She wanted this over with. She wanted this done one way or the other.

She wanted to be able to trust her friends again, or know for sure that she would not.

Serena and Grace entered somewhat cautiously, like two burglars creeping into a dragon's den. Cinderella was glad to see that she hadn't dragged them out of their beds, they were both dressed. Serena wore scarlet and Grace wore gold; Serena had golden bangle on her arm, Grace wore pearls in her hair. Both of them wore looks of trepidation.

 _Is this what I have become in all of one night?_ Cinderella wondered. _Am I turned so ferocious that everyone fears me?_ It was the last thing in the world she wanted. If she had known...would she have dealt differently with Theodora? How could she have, after what Theodora had done and threatened to do? Could she have lived with someone like that? No. But...Cinderella felt that she must have done something wrong, or everyone wouldn't be so scared of her.

"You summoned us, Cinderella?" Serena asked.

Cinderella noted with relief that Serena was not calling her 'Your Highness' the way that Augustina had. She was not quite so afraid, though she did not sound particularly enthusiastic either.

"I asked you to come and see me," Cinderella corrected her pointedly. "Would you both like to sit down?"

"Only if you wish it, too," Grace said softly, she brushed past Serena - the gold lame of Greece's dress squeaked against Serena scarlet tulle - to close half the gap that separated her from Cinderella. "How are you, Cinderella. It feels as though you've been having the most awful time of it lately, with that wretch at your speech and now Theodora! I can hardly imagine it, I thought I knew her!"

"So did I," lamented Cinderella softly. What came next...would be difficult. "Did...did you both...did neither of you know?"

Serena and Grace exchanged a puzzled glance.

"Know what, Cinderella?" Serena asked.

"That Theodora was never my friend, nor meant to be," Cinderella said. "That she was insulting me and without me realising it? That...that I was an idiot and a cool to not see it for myself?"

"Oh, Cinderella, no," Serena murmured. "Oh, no. Please tell me you're not blaming yourself for this."

"Please tell me that you're not blaming us," declared Grace.

Serena glared at her.

"I'm only trying to say that it hurts to be accused of something like that," said Grace.

"Augustina knew," Cinderella muttered. "Augustina thinks I should have known."

"Augustina should have said something to you, then," Serena said sharply. "I would have said something for certain, if I had known. And quite frankly, Cinderella, I'm as wounded as Grace that you think I would treat you in such a way. I thought we were closer than that."

"So did I, and I so want us to be," Cinderella said. "But...I thought that Theodora and I were close as well."

"So you trusted one person unwisely and that means you're not going to trust anyone?" Serena demanded. "That's madness!"

Grace strode forward and took Cinderella's left hand in her own. Her eyes gleaned with earnestness. "Cinderella, if there are any two people in the world who you may trust, it is we two. By Diana I swear it."

"Though it is true that you, in consequence of your sweet nature, trust a little too widely at times," Serena added. "You may trust us as you trust your princely husband: with your life."

"Give us a command," Grace urged. "And you will find us faithful as ever a vassal was."

"Serena, Grace, ladies," Cinderella murmured. She could not help but smile at their generosity, all and more she could have hoped for. "Duchamp tells me that I am too familiar with you, but you make me think she must be mistaken."

"Duchamp needs to learn her place," Grace grunted

"As I said, at times you trust too widely," Serena repeated. She smiled broadly. "But if you didn't, you wouldn't be the Cinderella that we love so well." She took Cinderella's other hand in her grasp. "Were I a man I would swear on my sword to always be true to you; But, since I am a woman, I'll seal my devotion with a kiss." She placed a gentle kiss on Cinderella's cheek.

"And I, too," said Grace, and she did likewise.

"Now kiss us, too, Cinderella," urged Serena. "And by it we will seal our trinity."

Cinderella's smile broadened and brightened as she looked from one to the other

"I am so fortunate to have met you," she said, and kissed them oth upon the cheek with all her earlier doubts and fears assuaged.

* * *

Cinderella had invited Lucrecia to stay for tea once her business at the palace was done; fortunately she had the time to spare, and so the Italian dresssmaker joined Cinderella's ladies-in-waiting in the princess' sitting room as they supper tea and smacked on little cupcakes topped with icing in a range of colours.

Angelique ate her cupcakes rather immediately, stuffing them whole into her face and chewing them quickly before swallowing. It didn't look as though she was overeating - there was always a decent interval between one cake and the next - she just ate very quickly when she did eat.

Cinderella, by contrast, nibbled, in part to disguise the fact that she wasn't eating much, and it seemed that Lucrecia was doing much the same. The other ladies-in-waiting were all somewhere between Angelique and Cinderella, though none ate quite so quickly as the former did.

"So, Lucrecia," Cinderella asked, after a sip of tea sweetened with a dash of honey. "How is your business coming along?"

Lucrecia smiled. "Under your patronage, highness, I am thriving. People come in, they ask me 'Is it true you are the princess dresssmaker? Did you make the gorgeous wedding gown she wore? I saw her looking stunning at a ball, was that your work?' And I say yes, and then I have them."

"A more generous spirit might allow that Cinderella's own beauty had a good deal to do with how stunning she looked on both occasions," Grace said sharply.

"A more humble princess might allow that the expensive jewels around my arms and neck had a lot to do with it as well," Cinderella said softly. "To say nothing of Duchamp's skill with make-up."

Grace smirked, "Perhaps, Cinderella, I'm just pointing out the institute of using your name to sell frocks by trying to take all the credit for the beauty God has given you."

"If my lady will forgive me, I am not trying to sell the beauty God has given," Lucrecia replied in a respectful tone. "If I had a potion that would make every girl in the kingdom as beautiful as Cinderella I would talk of her own looks. As I have only gowns it is to gowns that I restrict myself."

"If you had a potion that would make every girl in Armorique as beautiful as I am I hope you'd keep it to yourself," Cinderella said. "I don't really want the competition."

Serena snorted with laughter. "Cinderella, you're becoming a wit." Angelique was smirking too.

Augustina shook her head. "Mademoiselle dressmaker-"

"Lucrecia Adessi, if it please you Mademoiselle."

Augustina murmured some wordless noncommittal acknowledgement. "What would you judge most important in making a modern woman look beautiful? Is it natural beauty? Or can a skilled dresssmaker make a silk purse out of a sow's ear?"

Lucrecia chuckled nervously. "Mademoiselle, that is a question for men to decide upon, not for artisans like myself. I try to make my clients look as beautiful as possible, but when it comes to judging my success in that...my opinion counts for nothing."

"In a practical sense, of course," Augustina said. "But a beautiful girl must give you more to work with."

Lucrecia shrugged. "The beauty of the face is irrelevant, Mademoiselle. But I will acknowledge that a good figure is an advantage for one's tailor." She took a sip of her tea. "This tea tastes delightful with the honey in it."

Cinderella said, "It' s lovely, isn't it? It was Marinette's idea."

"We use it at home," Marinette explained. "It tastes as nice as sugar and it's..."

"Cheaper?" Augustina asked.

Marinette nodded unhappily.

"I think it's very nice," Cinderella said. "Thank you for introducing us to it."

Lucrecia nodded. "Does Etienne like it as much as-" she came to an abrupt halt as her complexion began to redden.

Serena leaned forward with a hungry look in her eye. "Etienne...Gerard? Our dear Marinette's brother?"

Cinderella frowned. Clearly Lucrecia reverted having spoken and she almost certainly did not wish to speak of this. Marinette was starting to look a little embarrassed as well. Cinderella was about to try and change the subject when Serena continued. "Oh, oh dear. Oh, you poor dear. Oh, I am sorry."

"You're sorry?" Marinette repeated. Cinderella hadn't yet heard her sound quite so indignant as she threatened to sound now. "May I please ask what you mean by that?"

"Nothing touching your family, darling, if that's what you think," Serena replied quickly. "You've been unfortunate but that isn't your fault, and your brother Lucien is very charming. But Etienne Gerard...Mademoiselle Lucrecia, though you are only middle class you have a position of great honour as Cinderella's dresssmaker. You shouldn't throw that away by getting involved with a disreputable rake like Etienne Gerard."

Lucrecia blinked. "I don't understand."

"Nor do I," murmured Cinderella. "Eugene places great confidence in Colonel Gerard. They're old friends."

"Perhaps," Serena said in such a way as to suggest that Eugene behaviour was a mystery to her. "But it is well known that he is a man without a shred of honour. No respectable woman will have anything to do with him."

"None of you said anything before," Cinderella pointed out.

"We would have, if you'd shown any sign of associating with him," Serena declared. "But you've been sensible enough to steer clear so far."

Cinderella frowned. This couldn't be right. Eugene liked and trusted Colonel Gerard, he couldn't be undeserving of that trust. She looked past Serena to Grace and Augustina and Grace. "Is this true?"

Grace nodded sadly. "I'm afraid so."

Augustina said. "I've heard that he carouses with prostitutes and frequents opium dens where they find him dazed out of his mind."

Grace said. "I heard that be has a secret child by some tavern slut secreted away in a seedy part of the city being raised by harlots."

Serena said. "I heard that-"

"Stop it, all of you!" Marinette cried. "Etienne isn't like that, he would never do such things. Etienne is proud and stern, but he's kind too and he takes care of us. He's a good man, he wouldn't...whatever you have heard it is all lies." She was trembling, the poor girl looked as though she was about to cry.

Without a word or a moment's hesitation Cinderella got up from her seat and crossed to where Marinette was. Cinderella knelt down and folded he arms around her. "I'm sure you're right. I'm sure that this is all just a misunderstanding of some sort."

"Perhaps it is just idle gossip," Serena said. "But if it turned out to be true then Lucrecia might find herself in serious difficulties. And then you wouldn't like it if I'd kept silent would you?"

"Etienne has never been anything but a gentleman towards me," Lucrecia said. "The man I know does not seem capable of being...your rumours describe a different man entirely."

"Jean speaks well of him," Angelique added. "He...I think he's become Iran's role model, of sorts."

"Perhaps he should be careful as well," Serena suggested.

"Serena, that's enough," Cinderella said sharply.

"It isn't true," Marinette insisted.

Cinderella would have like to believe her: for Marinette's own sake, for the sake of Lucrecia, and for what it might say about Eugene that the ruffian that rumour described was his closest friend. She would like to believe Marinette, but could She? When Lucrecia could be ruined by it?

"I don't believe it," Lucrecia declared stalwartly. "With all due respect, my ladies, I trust my instincts and my observations over wild rumours."

Ah, well there it was then. Lucrecia had no concerns, so it was none of Cinderella's business.

And besides, whatever happened Lucrecia would ways have at least one faithful customer.

* * *

Cinderella made a brief detour on her way to the Chamber of Deputies at a lensemaker's shop, where she left Jean outside (he wasn't particularly happy about it, but the fact that Cinderella allowed three other burly soldiers to surround her while she was there mollified him somewhat) while she ordered a telescope as a thank you gift. She had talked to Eugene about what she could get Jean that would show her appreciation for the fact that he had saved her life – twice now! – and while Eugene had suggested a sword, Cinderella thought that that might seem a little self-serving: thank you for saving me, now here is something that you can use to save me again. But Eugene had also said that officers used telescopes to spy out the land and their enemies, and so she hoped that Jean would find it useful.

Her order placed, with assurance of a swift delivery, Cinderella collected Jean from outside the shop and completed her journey to the Chamber, arriving just after two o'clock.

The Chamber met in a grand gothic building, looming upwards like a cathedral and covered in buttresses, adjustments and gargoyles staring down at the crowds who hurried around below. Cinderella dismounted at the edge of the square that adjoined the north face of the grand gothic edifice, and walked across it past the statues of various kings in martial pose and attire towards the chamber itself.

The heels of her boots tapped on the cobblestones as she walked, and as she walked with her guards around her Cinderella became aware of the eyes that were beginning to turn to her. People coming in and out of the chamber, people strolling in the square, they were beginning to look at her.

Cinderella tried not to react. She wasn't here to draw attention to herself, and she didn't want to appear vain.

Of course she didn't want to appear rude either, so when a gentleman tipped his hat to her and offered her a half bow, she responded with a smile and by almost curtsying as she walked. When people called out to her from a distance she waved at them, because she didn't want people to think that she was ignoring them on purpose.

Nevertheless she did not stop, she did not preen or pose or anything of that sort. She walked across the square and through the great archway that overshadowed the doors into the chamber. There was a latin inscription above the door, but Cinderella could not translate it.

Inside the chamber, or inside an ante-chamber to the chamber anyway, all was hustle and bustle. Middle-aged men in black silk stockings with swords at their hips stood guard. Page boys rushed hither and thither carrying messages. Gentlemen in frock coats and tall hats whispered conspiratorially to one another. More than a few of them glanced suspiciously at Cinderella as she walked in.

"Your Highness," Sieur Robert declared as he strode towards her. He was dressed in a dark, sombre suit with an equally dark waistcoat; a dark blue neckerchief was wrapped around his neck to provide a dash of colour against his high-collared shirt. He bowed to her. "You decided to accept my invitation."

Cinderella curtsied. "How could I not, Sieur Robert, when you made it sound so mysterious. She gestured to Jean. "Allow me to present-"

"Forgive me, ma'am, but I am due in the chamber post haste," Sieur Robert said quickly. He gestured to a staircase on the left. "The public gallery is up there. When the debate is finished I hope you will do me the courtesy of joining me for refreshment in my office. But for now, I must go." He hesitated for a moment. "I hope that you do not find this afternoon's experience too…uncomfortable."

 _Uncomfortable?_ Cinderella thought. _Why on earth should I find it uncomfortable?_ But before she could ask him what he meant by that Sieur Robert was gone, hurrying into the main chamber where the deputies met.

 _It seems he has a habit of being cryptic before he leaves._

Nevertheless, Cinderella did as she had intimated that she should do and climbed the stairs up into the public gallery. Jean followed behind her, though his rank and file men waited at the bottom of the stairs rather than crowd up the gallery. In the unlikely – Cinderella profoundly hoped – event that anything happened…Jean had been enough before; if it wasn't too much pressure to put on him then he would be enough again. But nothing was going to happen.

She hoped that it did not.

Cinderella climbed the winding stone steps quickly, emerging into an open gallery with seats rising up above one another so that they could all look down upon the chamber below with only some loss of vision for those at the back. Nevertheless, in spite of the design Cinderella guessed that the best seats would be at the front, and luckily there were some seats free in the front row, for the gallery was only half full.

Cinderella took a seat at the front, resting her hands on her knees as she peered over the rail into the chamber below.

Jean stood behind her, his hands by his sides.

"Aren't you going to sit down?" Cinderella asked.

"Best not, princess," Jean murmured.

Cinderella supposed that he was probably right about that, and so she turned her back on him and turned all her attention to the chamber below.

What she was rather surprising and, once she had gotten over the shock, a little disappointing as well.

The chamber where the deputies elected by the people to represent their interests to the king was divided into two, with two sets of blue benches climbing up the wall facing one another across a narrow aisle.

On one side of the aisle sat a crowd of the most raucous, boisterous fellows that Cinderella had ever set eyes upon. She remembered once, sent into town to run an errand for her Stepmother, she had been accosted outside of a public house by a dozen labouring-men who had entreated her to join them whistles, calls and remarks upon the shapeliness of her legs. Those men, who had sent Cinderella running for home, would have been put to shame by this mob. They brayed, they hooted, they waved their fists in the air and thumped the benches in front of them like a lot of smartly-dressed baboons. Sieur Robert, who stood before them at the very front of his side of the chamber, looked a little embarrassed by their antics, but he made no move to actually restrain them or change their behaviour in any way. At least, not so far as Cinderella could tell.

The other side of the chamber was making less noise. Partly because there were less of them, partly because one of them – Cinderella recognised Monsieur Durand from the Anti-Corn Law League – was attempting to speak and struggling to cut through the braying and hooting of his opponents, but partly also because they also looked a lot less inclined to jeer and shout down those opposed to them. Those gathered behind Sieur Robert had a certain look: strong, athletic, red-faced and with ruddy complexions. That was not the whole of their side of the chamber, and there were some of that kind facing them across the floor, but for the most part those gathered against Sieur Robert were of a more intellectual-looking sort: somewhat whey-faced, with spectacles very much in evidence. They did not look as though they could muster the sheer volume of, well, volume available to the supporters of Sieur Robert.

 _Why is the King's Premier supported by the barbarians?_

Monsieur Durand, to his credit, was not daunted by the sheer level of taunting and jeering being directed against him. Though Cinderella had to struggle to hear him at first, his voice became clearer as he spoke more loudly, his speech cutting through the tide of disdain directed against it like a ship ploughing on through the teeth of a tempest.

"-I ask again for the right honourable gentleman to answer whether he believes that he can continue to govern the people of this country while continuing to ignore the will of the people-"

"Jacobin! Jacobin!"

Monsieur Durand continued. "Time and again the vast majority of the people of Armorique, comprising not only a majority of men but also the entirety of women-"

"Husbands for old maids!"

"-time and again the vast body of the people has cried out for a voice and they have been told that the august gentlemen of this chamber will, out of some sense of noblesse oblige, hear them and govern in their best interests," Monsieur Durand continued. "When, may I ask, do my right honourable friends intend to do this listening of which they spoke? When will the voice of the people be heard? When will the will of the people be acceded to? When will the price of bread-"

The hooting seemed to get even louder now, which Cinderella wouldn't have thought possible. "Treason! Treason!"

"If the people are not given satisfaction when they ask politely then they will speak again in a more menacing tongue!" declared Monsieur Durand. "Though I, and all my honourable friends and every honest man in Armorique condemns and deplores the cowardly attempt on Princess Cinderella's life-"

"Shame, shame."

"Though I and all my honourable friends rejoice that Her Highness survived unharmed," Monsieur Durand continued, and paused for a moment to gesture to where Cinderella sat in the gallery. "Nevertheless it cannot be denied that if the people are not satisfied in their needs then their desperation will turn to anger and their anger will turn to acts of greater violence yet to come!"

"Lock 'em up!" someone called from behind Sieur Robert.

"Let them shoot her first!" someone else shouted.

Jean made a sound as though he was choking on something. Cinderella felt rather shocked herself. She felt as though she must have misheard in all the noise and confusion.

She hoped that she had misheard.

Monsieur Durand gasped, although there was something a little overdone and theatrical about it. "Is this the party that purports to defend the crown and institution of the monarchy? Will the right honourable Premier condemn this disgraceful sentiment from his own supporters or be revealed as a hypocrite in the eyes of the world?"

Sieur Robert rose heavily to his feet. "If there is a hypocrite in this chamber it is my honourable friend who, having spent every speech since his maiden attacking the notion and institution of the monarchy now has the gall to condemn me for being insufficiently gallant in defence of Her Royal Highness, Princess Cinderella. To what are we to account for this sudden discovery of chivalry by the honourable member? I hesitate to suggest that a glance from a pair of blue eyes have bewitched all the republicanism out of him but, let me be frank and explicit, my honourable friend is making it difficult to see any other explanation. And, having met the lady myself, I must confess that were I not a married men I would feel in peril of my soul myself."

Cinderella sat back in her seat, feeling rather hurt. _A pair of blue eyes. A pretty face, is that all I am to them?_ She knew that she wasn't very well educated, she probably wasn't very clever; she might even be stupid for all she knew. But would it be so hard for them to imagine that she was more than just a painted statue? Must she have seduced a man to influence him? Was she no more than that?

She wished that Eugene were here, she would have welcomed some reassurance from him at this point.

"However," Sieur Robert continued. "I would be remiss not to concede that my honourable friend chides my whole party well in one respect: it is indeed absurd for this great Conservative party, the bastion of the throne as of the church, to speak to glibly of death and injury being done to a member of the royal family, a woman who I hope and so hopes the entire country, will soon be mother to our future king. As loyal subjects of His Majesty I urge all the supporters of His Majesty's Government to adopt a more civil and deferential tone when referring to Her Royal Highness in the future. I would hope that we have not reached the point when parliamentary privilege becomes an excuse for a lack of parliamentary behaviour."

He sat down, amidst much discontented buzzing.

A third deputy rose to his feet, from the benches behind Sieur Robert. His nose was a little too long, and his eyes even from the distance at which Cinderella sat gleamed black as coals. His curly hair was dyed purple, and he had golden lions embroidered on his scarlet waistcoat. A multitude of rings glittered on his fingers were they caught the candle light.

 _And to think that I was worried about seeming ostentatious,_ Cinderella thought.

"The right honourable premier does us wrong," he declared, in a voice that rang out across the chamber. "He does me wrong, and all of my friends and colleagues in this great Conservative party, this party which remains great in spite, let me be frank and explicit, all the efforts of an unprincipled charlatan to strip it of its greatness."

Sieur Robert scowled. A few people laughed. Most of those upon that side of the chamber looked torn between amusement and discomfort.

"I am a loyal servant of the crown," continued that same deputy. "I am a faithful subject of His Imperial Majesty. All men know me to be devoted to the preservation of the monarchy as I am devoted to the preservation of Mother Church and the protections for agriculture."

"Hear! Hear!"

He carried on speaking. "But I do not accept, and I will never accept, that this devotion to the ideals of the monarchy requires me to kowtow to every later day Cleopatra who worms her way into the bed of princes and seeks to bend the policy of the state in her own interests." More than a few people cried out in agreement with his point, Sieur Robert bowed his head; Cinderella wanted to hide. She had to fight to maintain her composure. Straight back, head high, don't let them see how much they hurt you. That was how she had lasted the years in her Stepmother's house, she would endure this in the same way.

The deputy warmed to his theme. "As servants of the monarchy indeed it behooves us not to act like cringing lickspittles but to warn, as true and honest friends must do, when the monarchy has made, and continues to make, a terrible error. And I cannot but think that when historians look back upon these days they will say that there was no greater error than the hasty marriage that has brought us Her Royal Highness, Princess Cinderella. My honourable friend disavows the attempt upon the princess' life. I say, would that the shot had struck home!"

The chamber was utterly silent now, apart from the sound of Jean Taurillion choking on his wrath and muttering a lot of rather rude words from behind Cinderella. The deputies themselves, even his friends, appeared shocked as if even they thought that the speaker had gone too far. That felt like small consolation to Cinderella.

"Would that the shot had struck home," the deputy repeated. "Would that this Elijah had done his work and saved the monarchy from the treacherous wiles of this new Jezebel."

Jean bent down so that his head was level with Cinderella's own. "Princess, you need only give the word - you need only nod your head - and I will challenge that dog to a duel and put a shot in him."

Cinderella looked at him. "A duel? Oh, no, Jean."

"These insults cannot go unanswered!"

"People have been insulting me for half my life," Cinderella replied. "I bore that; I can bear this."

Jean scowled. "You shouldn't have to bear it, Your Highness."

"But it seems that I do," Cinderella murmured. "It's very gallant of you to offer, Jean, but my honour isn't worth risking your life over and neither is...whoever that is down there."

"Then you will do nothing?"

 _I won't let anyone see that these words hurt me._ "I've endured more, and worse," Cinderella said. "Now I don't have to endure it so often because I'm loved and liked and cherished and that..." she smiled. "Honestly, Jean, the fact that you were willing to fight for me means more to me than the words of a stranger ever could."

* * *

"I wouldn't like you to take what I said in the chamber today too personally, ma'am," Sieur Robert said, as he poured tea from out of a china pot. His office, were they sat, was oak-panelled, with bookshelves completely obscuring one wall and a portrait of some distinguished predecessor looking down upon them both. The furniture on which they sat was old and thick and covered in red leather. "There are times when I must play to the crowd behind me."

"I suppose that I should be grateful that you didn't call for my death," Cinderella remarked, with a touch of acid on her tongue.

Sieur Robert cringed. "I wouldn't take that too much to heart either, ma'am. They can be a rambunctious mob but there's no real harm or malice in them."

"You make them sound like children."

"They behave rather a lot like children, wouldn't you agree?" Sieur Robert asked. "Thoughtlessly unkind and prone to a lot of shouting."

Cinderella folded her hands in her lap. "I'm not quite sure what you intended to achieve by having me come here, Sieur Robert. Did you want me to understand how unpopular I am?"

"The Chamber is not the world, much though we seasoned politicians sometimes forget that," Sieur Robert said. "You are well liked amongst the general public; none would be bold enough to call for your assassination on a public hustings. In truth none but Mordred would go so far in the chamber; he sometimes lets his tongue run away from his brain. No, ma'am, the reason I asked you to come here was to see what I have to work with: economically illiterate, some of them might even be functionally illiterate, as attached to Protection as they are attached to their religious faith, holding Free Trade as anathema as republicanism. I could never carry repeal through such a party, they would never stand for it."

"You don't seem to hold your own supporters in very high regard," Cinderella murmured. "Then why-"

"Why don't I cross the floor and join your friend Monsieur Durand and his radicals and liberals?" Sieur Robert asked. "Because I could never get anything done. My party may be a pack of mules at times but they are mules that I can direct as I wish: I murmur pieties to their shibboleths of Throne, Church and Protection and in return they vote on all other matters exactly as I tell them to with no questions asked. These are unintelligent men, Highness, but they are not bad men; they serve as deputies because their fathers did, and their father's fathers; they are landowners and squires and they honestly possess the noblesse oblige that Durand disdained earlier. And most importantly they are easy to lead, and with their support I may govern the country in its best interests without having to endure too much tedious argument over it. On the other side of the house, trying to wrangle that mass of intellectuals and idealists is like herding cats. I could never get any work done leading such a party."

"I see," Cinderella said softly. "So you're telling me that the price of bread remains high because it is inconvenient for you to confront those that wish to keep it high."

"I am saying, ma'am, that it is a small sacrifice for the greater good," said Sieur Robert.

"Perhaps you're right," Cinderella replied. "And yet...I hope that you don't mind if I feel very disappointed in all of this. I must confess that I had hoped for better."

* * *

 _Author's Note: This chapter is a bit of a breather after some pretty hectic chapters in the past, before we move on to the next phase of the story next time._

 _I have certainly traduced the real Conservatives with their portrayal in this chapter but, although some of you have been kind enough to call this story complicated, I don't think anyone can say that it's really been morally complex so far: Cinderella may have her faults but she is ultimately good and kind, while Serena is a two-faced viper. In that sense the portrayal of the politicians is par for the course._

 _The update here was a little longer coming than some, in part because I've just started another Cinderella fic called_ Mysteries of the Castle of Dreams _, an attempt at gothic romance (sort of thing); it won't slow down the progress of this fic which is my favourite and my first priority among my fanfictions, but if you could go and check out the first chapter it would be much appreciated. There will be bits that are very familiar, but the ideas are used in a different way to how they appeared in this story._


	20. Catullus' Seventh

Catullus' Seventh

Cinderella kept one gloved hand around Eugene's elbow as she sidled into her seat in the royal box. Her gown was blue, though the opera-length gloves that covered her arms were white, and blue as well was the silk shawl, fringed with tasselled silver thread, that hung from her elbows and across her back ready in case she got cold. It seemed a little pointless to be wearing a ballgown to the ballet, where for most of the evening nobody would be in a position to see her, in the same way that it felt a little superfluous to be wearing her hair in the elegant twist on her head that she wore for balls, or to have a pair of diamond necklaces sparkling around her neck, one dangling only loosely and the other descending further down upon her breastbone. But Duchamp had assured Cinderella that this was the done thing, if only for the brief moments when she would be 'on display' as it were in the lobby before and after the show, and during the interval.

For the rest of the evening, of course, no one would be looking at her. No one should, at any rate.

"Are you looking forward to this?" Eugene asked.

"Oh, yes," Cinderella said as she sat down. "I can hardly wait. Thank you, for bringing me here."

Eugene smiled at her as he, too, took his seat. He leaned forward, and kissed her on the cheek. " _Swan Lake_ was the first ballet I ever saw, and it's always been one of my favourites. I hope you enjoy it…and that they do it justice this year."

They were in the royal box, set high up above the rest of the theatre. Down below, Cinderella could see not only the stage – mostly hidden beneath a heavy red curtain – but also the crowds shuffling into their seats in the gallery and the dress circle down below, not to mention the orchestra in the pit. It made her feel a little better about the way she was dressed, the diamonds round her neck, the sparkling tiara set in her hair, to see many other ladies similarly attired despite the fact that all eyes would be upon the stage. It seemed that those few minutes in the lobby were worth dressing up for.

At the back of the box, where a curtain similar to that which hung down over the stage divided the royal seats from the stairs and corridors beyond, Jean stood guard beside one of Eugene's guards, a scarred dragoon named Carnot who spoke so infrequently that Cinderella might almost have believed that they couldn't speak at all. Together they guarded the 'door', as it were. Eugene had placed them there himself, he had seemed so nervous on setting out that Cinderella had asked him if it would make him more comfortable to stay at home.

She got the distinct impression that it would definitely have made him more comfortable to have stayed at home, but that he was just too stubborn to give up something he enjoyed out of fear.

For herself, Cinderella felt no nervousness at all. With Jean and Eugene and Eugene's own bodyguard around she did not believe that anything would be allowed to happen to her. She was wholly focussed on the enjoyment ahead.

"It's an incredible view, isn't it?" she asked.

Eugene placed one hand on top of hers. "The best seats in the house, darling, quite literally."

Cinderella let the shawl fall from her elbows as she shuffled a little to get comfort. Eugene still hand his hand on top of hers, holding it for…for reassurance, almost, or so it felt.

Whether it was Cinderella or himself who was supposed to be reassured she did not know.

"Thank you," she said again.

"Cinderella?"

"I know you didn't really want to come out," Cinderella said. "But you did, and I'm grateful."

"I know that you don't want to live like a hermit, even if that might be my choice," Eugene replied, turning his eyes away from the stage and looking at her. "Besides, I've never missed the opening night of the season before, I'd rather not start now."

Shortly afterwards the music began to swell as the curtain rose, and the ballet began.

It was everything that Cinderella had hoped it would be and more. Such beauty in music and movement both alike, such grace, such precision. Watching the dancers move upon the stage, watching their arms and legs twirl dart in time to the orchestra it was…it was captivating. Even the story, which Cinderella had worried that she might not be able to follow, was rendered crystal clear to her by the beauty of the dancing.

"Did you enjoy your first taste of ballet?" Eugene asked, as he led her down into the lobby at the end of the show.

"Oh, it was wonderful," Cinderella replied. "We should come again soon."

Eugene chuckled. "Perhaps when all of this unpleasantness has been cleared up."

"Alright," Cinderella conceded. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, it was…not the best version I have seen, but very enjoyable all the same," Eugene said. "Now, shall we go?"

As he led her towards the door, and their waiting carriage, the door was opened by someone else and a blast of cold night air made Cinderella shiver a little. She reached for her shawl to cover her arms but… "Oh."

"Is something wrong?" Eugene asked.

"I must have left my shawl up in the box," Cinderella replied. "I'll just be a moment-"

"I'll get it, you wait here," Eugene said, placing one hand on Cinderella's arm.

"Are you sure, I was the one who left it, it isn't-"

"It's no trouble, I won't be long," Eugene replied. "There's no need for you to go wandering around in the dark."

Cinderella's eyebrows rose. "You're worried about me, aren't you?"

"I'm your husband, it's my prerogative to worry," Eugene said. He bent down and kissed her on the forehead. "Taurillion, Carnot, guard the princess."

"Of course, your highness," Jean said.

Carnot did not look so enthused at the idea. "Your Highness, I-"

"Guard the princess," Eugene repeated, in tones that left no room for argument.

Carnot nodded. "Yes, your highness."

Eugene darted back up the stairs from which they had so recently descended, and Cinderella was left with the two guards in the lobby, as elegantly dressed men and women milled around them on their way to their waiting carriages and the homes that lay beyond.

She smoothed out her skirt with her hands. "Did you see anything of the ballet, Jean, from where you were stood?"

"No, princess, although I heard the music," Jean murmured, as he looked warily around.

Cinderella shook her head. "There's no need to be so suspicious Jean, I'm sure nobody's going to try and harm me at the theatre."

"It's my job to look after you, princess," Jean replied, still sounding as though he were only half listening to her.

 _I suppose it is. I also suppose that I should leave you alone instead of distracting you._

"Princess Cinderella, fancy seeing you here."

Cinderella turned around to see a tall young lady standing behind her, with soft brown hair and arresting green eyes that glimmered like a pair of lovely emeralds in her sockets. Her dress was nearly as green as her eyes, though it could not quite match it, and she wore a pearl choker with a single glittering emerald set in the centre of it tightly around her neck. Behind her stood a single servant dressed in grey, with an inscrutable expression.

Cinderella smiled. "I…I'm sorry, but I don't believe we've met."

"Oh, how stupid of me," said the other lady. "I know so much about you that I feel as though we are already acquainted when, of course, we are not. I have the honour to be Princess Frederica Eugenie de la Fontaine of Normandie."

"Your highness," Cinderella gasped, as she began to curtsy.

"Oh no, don't do that my dear, we are equals in rank and I am a guest in your country, I should do you the honour," Frederica replied, as she curtsied low before Cinderella.

"Please, don't," Cinderella said as she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "It isn't really my country, I'm just-"

"The woman who will be queen of it one day," Frederica said. "Barring any unfortunate accidents."

"Yes," Cinderella admitted, her voice soft. "Yes, I suppose I will."

Frederica chuckled. "Hello again, Ensign Taurillion, you have acquired a reputation for gallantry since I saw you last. You must be very glad of this young mastiff's presence, Cinderella…I can call you Cinderella, can't I?"

"Of course," Cinderella replied. After all they were, as Frederica herself had pointed out, equals, so what else should Frederica call her but her name. "And as for Jean…he didn't need to earn my affection."

"Even though he has," Frederica murmured. "Fortunately he doesn't seem necessary tonight."

"No, there has been no trouble tonight," Cinderella agreed. "It's been wonderful."

"Yes, I would hope that even nihilists and anarchists would possess sufficient sense of art and beauty not to mar _Swan Lake_ with their activities. How did you enjoy the ballet?"

"It was beautiful," Cinderella replied. "It was the first time I've ever seen anything like it?"

"You had never attended a ballet before?" Frederica asked in disbelief.

"Well, no," Cinderella said, as Frederica's disbelief made her feel very self-conscious. "You see…"

"Oh, your situation, yes of course. I am so sorry to have brought it up, please forgive me," Frederica begged. "I don't know whether to envy or pity you, Cinderella. Envy because one's first ballet is also a magical experience, or should be."

"And pity?" Cinderella asked.

"Pity that it was not a better version of _Swan Lake_ ," Frederica explained. "I can't believe they used the happy ending."

Cinderella frowned. "There's more than one ending?"

Frederica sniffed. "In the _real_ ending, Prince Siegfried is seduced by Odile; Odette dies of a broken heart and Siegfried takes his own life in remorse to be with her."

"That sounds terrible," Cinderella protested. "I think I prefer the ending that I saw."

"Life should always end happily, but that does not mean that art must follow suit," Frederica said. "Tell me, Cinderella, did you see any of yourself in the white swan, or perhaps the black?"

"I…no," Cinderella replied. "No, I don't think I did."

"A beautiful girl rescued by the love of a prince coerced into marriage? It did not resonate with you at all?"

"I wasn't under an enchantment," Cinderella said.

"A minor detail, surely."

"It honestly didn't occur to me until you brought it up," Cinderella said.

"Really?" Frederica murmured. "And now?"

"Now, I'm afraid I still don't see it," Cinderella murmured. "And you?"

"Oh, I was the white swan, once upon a time," Frederica said. "But my Prince Siegfried betrayed me long ago. So now…now I play the black swan, when I must."

"Forgive me, but I don't understand."

Frederica smiled. "I hope, my dear, that you never will."

* * *

Lucrecia laid her head upon Etienne's chest, and felt his arms around her.

 _I trust you,_ she thought. It was as she had said in the palace, Etienne had never been anything but loving with her. _I trust you._ And yet…

And yet those words kept coming back to her, swirling across her mind and back again, disturbing her thoughts.

 _I want to trust you_. She wanted to dismiss everything that she had heard out of hand.

She only wished that she could. What if this was all a game, an aristocrat having sport with someone beneath his station, what if…

What if he was only playing with her all along? She could lose everything, all the things that she had worked so hard for gone in an instant.

 _Who would the princess choose, a foreign dressmaker or the best friend of her husband. There are a score of other master dressmakers in the city._

She would be disgraced, shut out from the palace and probably lose most of her other clients too. If what was said of Etienne was true, if…

 _I want to trust you. I want so much to trust you, but…but if it's true, if any of it is true…my whole life will be destroyed._

"What's the matter?" Etienne asked.

Lucrecia closed her eyes. "I don't know what you mean."

"You've been quiet," Etienne replied. "More than usual. Something's wrong."

Lucrecia opened her eyes. Etienne was looking down on her, his chin resting on his chest. He was so handsome, and his eyes…she couldn't believe that malice could lurk behind those eyes, or the kind of disreputable behaviour that he was accused of. And yet…could she afford to risk everything on faith?

She rolled off of Etienne's chest and propped herself up by one elbow. "I went to the palace today, to drop off some things."

"I thought you liked going to the palace. I thought you like her highness."

"I do," Lucrecia said. "She is the kindest and most considerate client that I have. She even invited me to stay for tea."

"So far all this sounds rather pleasant."

"Her ladies in waiting joined us," Lucrecia went on. "They talked."

"I think that's what they're there for," Etienne muttered dryly.

"They talked about you."

Etienne was silent for a moment. He didn't look at her. He stared up at the ceiling. "Ah."

"They said-"

"I'm well aware of the sort of things that the ladies of court are likely to have said about me," Etienne said gruffly, cutting her off before she could elaborate. He sat up and slung his legs out of bed, presenting his back to her as he did so. His head was a little lowered, his back a little bent, as though the words he had not permitted her to say were weighing on him.

"Is it true?" Lucrecia asked. "If…if you tell me that it isn't true then I will believe it, but…but I need to hear you say it."

"Why?" Etienne asked. "If you trust me enough to take my word, then…why?"

"Because…because if it is true then I could lose everything," Lucrecia replied. "My royal patronage, my reputation, my…my heart. And so I hope that…that if this is all a lie then…then there will be enough decency in you to admit that to me now. And if not…if it isn't a lie…if you are true to me, then…then why couldn't you say it."

Etienne sighed. "I do not whore. I do not take opium. I do not drink to excess. I gamble, that sin I will own to, but it is of necessity as much as for pleasure. All these things I swear to you."

Lucrecia let out a long breath of relief. "If…if you need money, then-"

"Don't," Etienne said. "Please…don't finish that sentence."

Lucrecia nodded, though she knew that he couldn't see it. He was too proud, to accept her help, though Cinderella paid her more for a fancy frock than the crown paid him for a day's work. He was too proud, too proud even to refuse her; he prepared that she did not ask.

"There…there was one more thing."

"Lucrecia, please."

"They said…they said that there was a child," Lucrecia said, her voice trembling.

Etienne kept his back to her. She could not see his face. She couldn't hear anything that he said because…because he was silent. He said nothing.

"Etienne," she whispered, in hope that it might stir him to speech. "Etienne, please, tell me the truth."

"The truth?" Etienne murmured. "The truth is that I would never, ever seek to hurt you."

"Then it isn't true?" she asked. "If it isn't true, then just tell me."

Etienne said nothing.

"Is it true?" she asked. "Etienne, answer me!"

"I cannot."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't have the right?"

"What does that mean?" Lucrecia demanded.

"It means that there are some things about me that are none of your concern," Etienne snapped. "Nor the concern of anyone else."

Lucrecia felt a sensation like ice spreading through her veins. "It's true, isn't it? There is a child. You have a child by some tavern-"

"Don't!" Etienne snarled, and he turned towards her with such anger on his face as she had never seen before. For the first time since she had met him, Etienne scared her a little, and Lucrecia found herself recoiling from him and his anger with a gasp.

His face crumpled with regret. "I…I'm sorry, I…please don't say things like that." He got up, and reached for his britches. "I should go. I will not intrude upon you any further."

"Etienne-"

"I should have realised the position that I was putting you in," Etienne declared, snatching his shirt and jacket up off the floor. "I…I'll change downstairs, and let myself out."

She wanted to stop him, to say _Don't go_ , but…but she didn't. She couldn't. Not after…not while she was still so…she didn't know what to feel any more.

She turned away, and lay face down upon her pillow. She heard his footsteps going down the stairs, but didn't see him leave.

Lucrecia Adessi sobbed.

* * *

A dark red rose lay on Cinderella's bed, together with a sealed and folded note with _To My Love_ scrawled upon it in a flowing hand.

Angelique couldn't help but smile at the sight as she gazed down upon it. _Married and he's still sending her love notes. That's…that's sweet, I admit._

 _Except…when did His Highness get up here to leave it here? We were all up here with her when His Highness arrived to collect Cinderella for the ballet and it wasn't there then. And we would have noticed him leaving a note and a rose then, wouldn't we? So when did he…and why didn't anyone notice him coming…_

 _Prince Eugene is a stealthy fellow, I suppose, and fast as well._

 _After all, who else would be sending Cinderella love notes?_

Angelique briefly considered the possibility that this was some kind of prank, from Augustina maybe or someone else who fancied themselves as the second coming of Theodora: Cinderella would open up the note and it would say 'I hate you and I wish that I'd never married you!' or something like that in a petty attempt to upset her. Probably not. These ladies in waiting might, in the main and in Angelique's considered opinion, be the slimiest bunch of false friends to ever slither across the earth but they weren't stupid. They had seen the fate of Theodora and would not be eager to court it for themselves. Most likely…most likely it was from Prince Eugene, and that he had sneaked up here without leaving anybody any the wiser.

It was a bit strange to think of the crown prince of the realm possessing the sneaky stealth of a burglar, but other than that it was the most reasonable explanation that Angelique could think of.

Angelique turned to go. She'd come up here to make sure that there wasn't a snake under Cinderella's bed or anything like that, and she was satisfied that there were no oh-so-funny surprises waiting in her suite of rooms. As she thought: not stupid

Thus satisfied Angelique took a step towards the door…only to stop as she heard a whispering sound coming from somewhere in the bedroom.

"Who is it? Is it Cinderelly?"

"No, it's the shorty one. What's her name?"

"Me not know."

 _The shorty one? I'm not that small._ Angelique blinked. "Um, hello? Who's there?"

There was a moment of silence, before she heard someone shushing someone else or a whole group of someones (Angelique thought she had heard three distinct voices already) and not being as quiet about it as they probably thought.

"I heard that," Angelique declared, as she turned around slowly. "Look, I know there's somebody in here so why don't you stop playing around and come out from wherever you're hiding?"

"How can she hear us?" someone asked.

"I can hear you because you're talking," Angelique snapped, as she advanced into the centre of the bedroom. "How do you think?"

"Who is she?"

"What do we do?"

"Who am I?" Angelique asked. _I'm the shorty one, apparently._ "Who are you? Where are you?" She looked around the bedroom in search of likely hiding places, but could find none. She had already looked under the bed when she was searching for hidden traps and there was nobody there. They might have been hiding in the wardrobe but the voices definitely sounded like they were coming from in this room, not further away. Where they in the walls? Where there secret passages? Castles and palaces had lots of secret passages in stories, but this was real…were the secret passages real too? Was someone watching her from out of some peephole somewhere?

Was someone watching the princess get undressed from some peephole somewhere?

Angelique felt her face begin to burn up from reflexive embarrassment. "Whoever you are, wherever you are, come out now!" she demanded. "I want to know what's going on."

"Gus-Gus, no!"

"D-d-down here."

Angelique looked down at the fat brown mouse wearing a green tunic and matching hat, standing on his hind legs – and wearing shoes while he was at it – down by the hem of her ruffled skirt.

"How ya doin'?" the fat mouse asked.

"Gah!" Angelique exclaimed as she leapt backwards. That proved to be a grave mistake, as she promptly tripped over the hem of her dress and tumbled backwards with a strangled cry of alarm to land on her backside with a groan of pain. "Ow."

The fat brown mouse regarded her with a kind of uncomprehending curiosity. "Whatsa matter?"

"What's the matter?" Angelique yelled. "What's the matter, you're a talking mouse! You don't get to ask me 'what's the matter'; I should be asking you what the matter is. How are you talking?"

"Alla mice know how to talk," said a second mouse as he – at least Angelique thought it was a he – emerged from out of a mouse hole under the dressing table. He had a scarlet tunic and a matching coat to go with his hat. "Mosta humans not know how to listen."

Angelique opened her mouth to rebut that, to say that she had lived cheek by whisker with mice for many years and none of them had ever tried to talk to her, only to steal her dinner when she wasn't looking. Except now that she came to think of it that might have been rats. They were a bit bigger than these two, so…

 _I can't believe I'm actually putting this much thought into this._

"Yousa the first human who can hear us other than Cinderelly," the mouse in the red coat continued. "Not even princey can understand what wesa saying."

"Cinderelly," Angelique murmured. "Cinderella? You know the princess?"

"Of course wesa know Cinderelly, wesa Cinderelly's friends," the mouse in red declared proudly. "Wesa Cinderelly's best and oldest friends. Mice and Cinderelly go way back, and Jaq-Jaq goes back further than most."  
"Jaq-Jaq," Angelique repeated slowly. "That's…that's you then, is it?"

Jaq-Jaq nodded. "Mesa Jaq-Jaq, and this here Gus-Gus."

Gus-Gus grinned. "Niceta meetcha."

Angelique picked herself up off the floor; only to get down on her knees again immediately after so that she could get closer to these talking mice that looked like little furry people. "I…I'm Angelique. Angelique Bonnet."

"Nice to meet ya, Angel-Bonny," Jaq-Jaq said.

Angelique snorted. "You can just call me Angelique, okay?"

"Okay, Angelicky."

"Angelique."

"Angelicky, that's what I said."  
"Um, okay," Angelique murmured. "So…how long have you known Cinderella?"

"Oh, it musta been-uh," Jaq-Jaq started to count on his fingers. Unfortunately he only had three of them on each hand plus a thumb. "Jaq-Jaq loses count. Lotsa years I known Cinderelly."

"Gus-Gus known Cinderelly about, uh, three weeks," Gus-Gus said.

"That's…a difference," Angelique said. "So…is it just the two of you?"

Jaq-Jaq laughed, a high pitched and slightly scratchy sound. "No, no, no, no! Cinderelly gotta lotta friends. Hey, everyone! Why don'tcha come out and say hello to Angelicky!"

Angelique's eyes widened as a score of mice poured out of the mouse hole beneath Cinderella's dressing table, all of them walking on their hind legs like men, and all of them dressed like men too. The boy mice were dressed like country labourers, in homespun tunics and caps of liberty, while the girl mice were dressed like farmers' wives in blouses and skirts with little white aprons and colour codes scarves to wear over their heads. It was…it was a little bit funny, how very conventional and 'respectable' it was…but at the same time someone had clearly put a lot of effort and some thought it making all these shoes and dresses and tunics…and that was nice of them.

Mostly though, she couldn't help thinking that there were a lot more of them than she had expected.

"Um, hello," she said.

"Everybody, this is Angelicky, she can understand what wesa saying!" Jaq-Jaq proclaimed. "Angelicky, this is-"

"Hang on, just a moment, and let me shut this door," Angelique said, leaping to her feet and shutting the bedroom door. The last thing that Angelique needed was for people to see her talking to a score of well-dressed mice, and the last thing that Cinderella needed was for the likes of…anybody to see that she had a score of well-dressed mice in her room. Although it sounded as though Prince Eugene knew already, Angelique was pretty sure that most people did not, or else they'd been doing a very good job of secret from her. "Now, can one of you please start from the beginning?"

It was…it was quite a story they had for her. Quite apart from the blizzard of names there was also the events themselves. Dragging keys up and down stairs, always staying one step ahead of the cat…and to think that she thought she'd had it rough out on the streets. At least no one was trying to eat her.

But they had had their Cinderelly, these mice. She had looked after them like a benevolent god, or perhaps a queen might be more appropriate – and a good omen for her princess-ship, if it was so – keeping them safe from the wrath of the elements and their feline adversary. Most of the time, anyway.

It was a side of Cinderella that Angelique had known nothing about. A side that, she suspected, most people knew nothing about. She wondered how it would change people's minds about her if they knew. Would Theodora have dared to trespass against her princess if she knew that the girl whom she dismissed as a timid milksop was actually a hardened defender of the lost, a fearless foe to ferocious felines everywhere? Would snobs who thought a mere servant girl could not possibly make a good princess be so dismissive if they knew that she had ruled over a tribe of mice ever since she was a little girl, settling their disputes and maintaining harmony amongst them? Angelique hadn't suspected it, and now that she knew…even she was a little more inclined to take Cinderella seriously than she had been before.

"That's…that's quite a story," she said to them. "It's a really nice story too. Cinderella, she…she really took care of you, didn't she?"

"Cinderelly give us everything wesa got," Jaq-Jaq said solemnly. "Wesa be nothin' without our Cinderelly."

Angelique smiled. "You care about her a lot, don't you?"

Jaq-Jaq nodded, still in a solemn vein. "Wesa all do anythin' for Cinderelly."

"Well, if you really mean that," Angelique said. "I've got…well, I've got one piece of advice, and one request, if you're up for it."

"What?"

"You shouldn't have come out so quickly," Angelique said. "That's the advice. There are people…it might not look too good if you just spilled to them everything that you've just told to me." She had no idea whether other people would be able to understand what they were saying – she didn't know why _she_ could understand what they were saying, or Cinderella for that matter – but even if they couldn't be understood just the sight of them could lead to some very awkward conversations.

"Wh-wh-why not?" asked Gus-Gus.

Angelique frowned. "Because not everyone in this place has Cinderella's best interests at heart. If they knew…if it got out that she…if people found out about you then they could make her seem odd, maybe mad. I don't know what would happen to her in the end, but…best not take the risk."

"But Princey already knows all about us."

"Princey is a bit different, love can make you get over a lot of things," Angelique said. "But…look, you already hide most of the time, don't you? Just do that. Hide, and don't come out except for Cinderelly…for Cinderella. And me, now, I suppose."

"Yousa not goin' to hurt Cinderelly, are you?" asked one of the female mice…Suzy, was it? Yes, her name was almost certainly Suzy.

"No," Angelique said, matching Jaq's solemn tone. "I…I owe Cinderella a lot. Not as much as you, but almost. She's given me a fresh start, a chance to turn my life around. I'm grateful for that, and I'm going to keep her safe if I can. But…but I need your help."

"Yeah yeah, help Angelicky help Cinderelly!" Jaq cried eagerly. "Whatsa help?"

"I suspect," Angelique said. "No, I know, that at least one of Cinderella's ladies are up to no good. But I can't prove it and I can't follow them discreetly enough to be sure of catching them in any mischief. But _you_ can. And if you catch them in any funny business, tell Cinderella all about it."

Gus-Gus blinked. "Howsa we to know whatsa funny?"

Angelique considered that. "Come to me first, discreetly, and I'll help you make up your minds. And then-"

She stopped, as she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Hide! Quick!" Angelique hissed, watching the mice scatter in a great rush back towards the mouse hole as she turned around, smoothed down her skirt, and waited for whoever it was to come through the door.

It turned out to be Marinette. She peered around the room curiously.

"What are you doing up here?"

Angelique shrugged. "Just…making sure it was all alright."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you know…making sure there weren't any pranks or anything for Cinderella."

"Where you expecting any?"

"It doesn't hurt to make sure."

"I thought I heard you saying something?"

"No," Angelique said lightly. "No, well…I might have muttered to myself or something, but that's all."

"Oh," Marinette said. She glanced at the rose and the note on Cinderella's pillow. "What's that?"

"It's a love note for Cinderella," Angelique said. "I think…I think it's quite sweet, her husband still sending her flowers and notes."

"He's in love," Marinette replied wistfully. "I hope it lasts for them."

"It doesn't show any sign of stopping," Angelique said.

"I know, but…" Marinette trailed off.

Angelique approached her. "Are you okay?"

"They…they didn't need to say things like that about Etienne, it…it wasn't right."

"That's probably why they did it," Angelique muttered.

"Do you think so?"

"If there isn't an awful lot of sour hiding under that sweetness I'll be very surprised," Angelique replied.

Marinette snorted.

"What?"

"It…it's the strangest thing," Marinette said. "You…and I sort of agree with you, especially after today…we think that Serena and Grace are too nice, and we assume that they must be hiding something."

"Yes," Angelique said, as though that were obvious. "What's your point?"

"Why don't we think that Cinderella's too nice?" Marinette asked. "Why don't we suspect that she's hiding something?"

Angelique's mouth hung open for a moment. She was reminded of the times when Jean would come out with something ridiculous and irrefutable at the same time. "I…it…Cinderella's different, isn't she?"

"Is she?"

"Yes!" Angelique said firmly. "Cinderella…we've seen other sides of her." _I certainly have._ "She isn't just sweetness and light and let's be friends. She cries, she gets scared, she gets taken in by the wrong kind of people." _She looks after mice and dresses them up like the respectable working class._ "And so, when she is sweet, I believe it's really her. Serena and Grace it's so fixed it has to be a mask, doesn't it? We barely see anything else from them."

"Nastiness to my brother," Marinette pointed out.

"Well, yes, that too."

"But apart from that…yes, you're right. We've seen things…that Cinderella couldn't be pretending, or why would she? But it's strange…that she doesn't see what we see…in Serena and Grace."

"Some people are just too nice for their own good," Angelique said. "Anyway, she doesn't need to see it while she has us looking after her, yes?"

Marinette frowned. "I'm…I'm supposed to be getting money out of her, the princess. I'm supposed to be using her to pay off our debts. But I see…the more I see of Cinderella the less I want to take advantage of her."

"Then don't."

"My mother-"

"Doesn't own you," Angelique said. "I'd rather you were my friend than somebody that I had to keep an eye on."

Marinette's lip twitched upwards. "I'd rather be your friend, too."

"Then we look out for her, together?" Angelique said.

Marinette nodded decisively. "Together."

* * *

Eugene escorted Cinderella upstairs to her room when they returned from the theatre, and so he was still with her when her eyes fell upon the dark red rose and the note left on her pillow.

"Oh, how charming of you," Cinderella declared, as she raised the rose - trimmed of all its thorns - to her nose and took a sniff of its fragrance. "And the smell is so lovely, too. When did you leave this here."

"I...didn't," Eugene admitted. "Although I might have to start now."

Cinderella lowered the rose, though she kept hold of it even as her hand fell to her side. "But...if it isn't from you, then...who left it here?"

"Why don't you open the letter and see?" Eugene suggested.

"Are...are you sure?" Cinderella asked. "It might be better to just throw it away."

"I'm as curious as you are to find out who is leaving roses in my wife's bedroom," Eugene said. He grinned. "And what you're doing to encourage them."

"Eugene!"

"A joke, only a joke," Eugene assured her. "Come on, open the note, let's see what's inside."

"Very well," Cinderella said, with reluctance lingering in her voice like a guest who will not leave the dying party. She set the rose down on the bed and plucked the note up in its place, opening it swiftly with her delicate fingers. The handwriting was fair, elegant even, curving across the sheet of paper like the flight of swallows. "It's...I think it's a poem," Cinderella murmured. "I...I might not be able to pronounce all of the words, but I'll give it a try."

Eugene placed his hand around her waist. "Go on."

Cinderella coughed mildly to clear her throat, and read over the words before her one last time. "Cinderella, how many kisses of yours,

Would be enough and more to satisfy me?

As many as the grains of Libyan sand,

That lie between hot Jupiter's...oracle? Is that the right word?"

Eugene nodded.

Cinderella frowned as she tried to go on. "At...Ammon, in resin-producing Sy...syrenee?"

"Cyrene," Eugene corrected her. He grinned, and his voice took on an eager, whispered quality. "Lesbia, how many kisses of yours,

Would be enough and more to satisfy me?" He kissed her upon both cheeks, then on her eyelids as Cinderella giggled at the sensation, then upon her lips.

"As many as the grains of Libyan sand,

That lie between hot Jupiter's oracle,

At Ammon in resin-producing Cyrene,

And old Battus' sacred tomb.

Or as many as the stars, when night is still,

Gazing down on human secret desires,

As many of your kisses kissed,

Are enough, and more, for mad Catullus,

As can't be counted by spies,

Nor an evil tongue bewitch us."

Cinderella sighed. "That...that is beautiful, and exactly what's written on this note, apart from the name change. But how did you-"

"It's Catullus' Seventh, Roman poetry" Eugene said. "I can recite it in the original latin too, if you like?"

Cinderella chuckled. "Thank you, but no. I...I didn't understand all of it, what does it mean?"

"Bluntly, the poet is begging Lesbia to become his lover," Eugene explained. "Is there a name with it?"

Cinderella checked the note again. "No, just the poem."

Eugene looked amused. "It seems you have a secret admirer. Lucky you."

"This isn't funny," Cinderella said sharply. "I don't want a secret admirer. I don't want anyone but you."

"If I didn't believe that, I wouldn't be so calm about this," Eugene admitted. "But I don't blame them, whoever they are."

"You don't?"

"How can I? I married the most beautiful woman in Armorique?" He kissed her again. "How can the world escape envy?"

"Stop it, please," Cinderella begged. "I...I feel sorry for them, whoever they are. I won't...I can't ever love them. I...I hope they find someone else soon."

"Perhaps they will," Eugene said. "Perhaps this won't be the last you hear from them."

"And if it isn't?" Cinderella asked. "What should I do then?"

"I...I've really no idea," Eugene said. "You might have to work that out for yourself."

"I wonder where this came from," Cinderella murmured, placing the note down on her bed alongside the rose. "Do you mind if I ask the mice if they saw anyone leave this here?"

Eugene let go of her, and closed the door with his other hand. "Be my guest."

Cinderella took a few steps towards the mouse hole under the dressing table. She knelt, and felt the soft silk of her petticoats cushioning her knees against the hard wooden floor. "Jaq?" she called. "Gus, Perla, can you hear me?"

She heard Eugene sit down on the bed behind her. She appreciated him tolerating this sort of thing more than she could probably ever express in words. It must be bizarre for him, to be able to hear her speaking but not understand what was being said to her, and yet he bore it with complete understanding. No other man could compare with that; no flower poetry would sway her from the course of her affections. He was the only one for her, and always would be.

Jaq emerged from the mouse hole, followed by Gus and Perla. "Evenin', Cinderlly."

Gus nodded, and yawned noticeably.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Cinderella said. "I'm not keeping you up, am I?"

"Not a problem, Cinderelly, not a problem," Jaq declared eagerly, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Gus didn't seem to entirely agree with him. "Always gotta time for Cinderelly."

"I know," Cinderella replied. _More time than I've had for you, lately._ A stab of guilt shot through her, she would have to rectify that when she could. "You're such good friends." _A better friend than I am._ "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Cinderelly not got nothing to make up," Jaq said.

"Well, we'll have to disagree on that I think," Cinderella said. "How are you all?"

"Wesa doin' fine, Cinderelly, wesa good-good," Jaq said. "How was Cinderelly dancing?"

"The ballet? Oh, it was amazing, I'll have to tell you all about it," Cinderella said. "But it will have to be tomorrow, because tonight..." she half glanced back towards Eugene.

"Jaq-Jaq understands," Jaq said cheerfully. "Wesa alla understand."

"Someone came into my room tonight," Cinderella said. She assumed that it must have been after she left for the ballet because she hadn't noticed anything there before. "A rose, and a little note. I don't suppose any of you saw anybody come in with those things."

"Angelicky held a note," Gus ventured. "And a flower, too."

"Angelique?" Cinderella said. "Why would Angelique..." Two thoughts occurred to her, the first being that Angelique had been delivering the note for someone else, which didn't seem too likely since Angelique's only real friend was Jean, and even if Jean felt that way about her he was about as likely to know Roman poetry as Cinderella was herself; the alternative was that Angelique had been up in Cinderella's room for some unrelated reason, found the note and picked it up to examine it for a moment. The second struck her as more likely than the first, but she would ask Angelique about it when she saw her tomorrow.

"You didn't see anyone else?" Cinderella asked. "Nobody but Angelique?"

"Nuh-uh," Jaq said. "Angelicky real nice, wanna look out for Cinderelly."

Cinderella blinked. "How do you know that?"

"Angelicky told us," Jaq said. "Angelicky can hear us, same as Cinderelly."

Cinderella's eyes widened. "She can? She spoke to you?"

Jaq nodded. "Angelicky as surprised as Cinderelly. More. Angelicky all aah!" Jaq mimed falling onto his backside in astonishment. "But she pretty nice. Not as nice as Cinderelly, but pretty nice. She asked mice to help her help Cinderelly. Asked us to watch mean people."

"Did she?" Cinderella murmured. "And who are the mean people?" She thought she could guess.

Jaq shrugged. "Not say. Someone coming. Have to hide. Then Angelicky gone."

Cinderella sighed. "I'm sure that she means well, and I appreciate that you wanted to help me, but I'd really rather that you didn't go around spying on people for me. It isn't right, and...and I don't want you to work for me like that, you're my friends, not my servants."

Jaq looked a little discouraged. "Jaq-Jaq understand, Cinderelly. Wesa just wanted to help."

"I know," Cinderella said. "We'll talk more tomorrow, but for now I'm afraid I have to say goodnight."

"Night-night, Cinderelly."

"Goodnight, Jaq, goodnight everyone," Cinderella said, as the mice crawled back into their hole. She got up, and faced Eugene. "They saw Angelique holding the note, but I don't think she left it there originally."

"They didn't see anyone else?" Eugene asked.

"No, but they told me something else," Cinderella said. "Angelique can speak to the mice, just like I can."

Eugene's eyebrows rose. "Interesting."

"And she asked them to spy for me."

"Potentially disturbing."

"I told them not to," Cinderella said. "I didn't...it didn't seem right to me."

"On a purely ethical level it almost certainly isn't," Eugene agreed. "On a practical level...it could be very useful."

"Perhaps, but I don't want to use my friends like that," Cinderella said. "And besides, if I spied on people it would mean that I didn't trust them, and I...I'd much rather trust, as much as I can."

* * *

Cinderella caught sight of Angelique in the mirror as she stood in the doorway, before she knocked on the open door.

"You wanted to see me, pr- Cinderella?"

"Yes, Angelique, I did," Cinderella said, as she slipped her engagement ring onto her finger. "Please shut the door."

Angelique did as she was bidden. The look on her face was more curious than anything else.

Cinderella wasn't sure whether she should get up, to put Angelique at her ease, or stay sitting down so that she was closer to level with the rather short girl. In the end she decided to stand up, on the grounds that she wasn't that much taller than Angelique even with high-heeled slippers on, and so she got up and walked closer to Angelique. Her heels clicked on the wooden floorboards.

She smiled. "I understand that you can speak to mice."

Angelique's eyebrows rose. "Ah, they've talked to you already. That was quick."

Cinderella chuckled. "Surely you didn't expect them to keep it a secret?"

"I…I didn't really think about it," Angelique admitted. "I mean…I…they're talking mice, I…I didn't imagine it then?"

Cinderella covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed. "No, you didn't. And if you get to know them I think you'll be glad that you didn't."

"I'm not so sure," Angelique muttered.

Cinderella frowned. "Is something the matter?"

Angelique looked away from her. "I've never kept a secret from Jean before. I always…we share everything, but this…I can't tell him about this, can I?"

"Why not?" Cinderella asked. "I told Eugene."

"Right away?"

"Well, no," Cinderella admitted. "But quickly. And besides, that's different. You've known Jean for longer than I had known Eugene when I told him the truth."

"You're right, it is different," Angelique said. "Different because this is your secret not mine, I'm just…sharing it. It wouldn't be right for me to go blabbing it to other people."

"I don't mind you telling Jean."

"Just because you don't mind something doesn't make it right to do it," Angelique replied quickly. "I…if people found out they might think that you were…that we are…"

"Yes, I know," Cinderella sighed. "That's what I was afraid of as well, that's why I didn't tell Eugene at first."

"Why did you tell him?" Angelique asked. "What changed your mind?"

"I…" a smile passed quickly over Cinderella's face. "I needed to believe that he loved me for more than just my blue eyes and the shape of my face. I needed to believe that he loved _me_ and for that…I needed him to see me, for what I really was."

Angelique smirked. "I have to admit, when the mice told me about what you did for them…I saw you a little bit differently, Cinderelly."

"Oh, really?" Cinderella said archly. "In what way, Angelicky?"

"Yes, you're right, that's not a box that I want to open is it," Angelique muttered. "I just meant…I suppose I didn't imagine that you could be so…I feel like I apologise to you."

"What for?"

Angelique was silent for a moment. "Jean believes in you. He believes that you can actually make a change, to this country, to society, to the way it all works. I…I wasn't so sure. But…the way that you ruled those mice…maybe…maybe you've got what it takes."  
"You make me sound unlike what I really am," Cinderella said. "I didn't rule over anyone. They were my friends, not my subjects."

"You clothed them, you fed them, you rescued them-"

"Whatever they said, they were probably exaggerating."

"You sheltered them-"

"What else could I have done?"

"Most people would have done something else," Angelique said. "But you…you were different."

"It was different being able to hear them."

"Everyone can hear the beggars on the roadside," Angelique said. "Very few raise a hand to help them. I…I admit that I wasn't sure you really cared, at first. No offence. But now…I've got no doubts left."

Cinderella's hand went to her heart. "Thank you, Angelique. That…that means a great deal. Although I have to admit that I wasn't very happy when Jaq told me that you had asked my friends to spy for me."

"Ah," Angelique murmured. "They're not very good at keeping secrets, are they?"

"I wouldn't say that," Cinderella said. "Although I'm glad that they didn't keep this one. Why, Angelique? Why did you ask them to do something like that?"

"Because I thought they'd be good at it. They're small, nimble, nobody will notice them. They can sneak into people's rooms and listen to what they say and watch what they do."

"Into whose rooms?"

"Serena, Grace-"

"You want me to use my mouse friends to spy on my human friends?"

"If you did you'd soon find out whether or not they were really your friends, I'll bet."

"I already know that they are, I trust them," Cinderella said. "Just as I trust you. Should I have Jaq spy on you as well?"

Angelique shrugged. "I've got nothing to hide. Apart from your secret, anyway."

"Oh, don't be absurd," Cinderella said. "I'm not going to spy on my own ladies."

"I'm not saying don't trust them," Angelique said, sounding as though she would have liked to say exactly that. "I'm only saying that perhaps you should confirm that they deserve that trust, since you can. You have to take care of yourself, because no one else here will."

"Eugene takes care of me."

"Well…yes, of course he does, and if a madman with a gun or a knife turned up then Jean would take care of you too," Angelique conceded. "My point is…there are people who will try to take advan-"

Angelique was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door.

"Cinderella," Lucien's voice resounded through the door. "May I come in?"

"Who's that?" Angelique asked.

"Lucien Gerard, a friend of mine," Cinderella said, as she walked towards the door.

"Colonel Gerard's brother?" Angelique said, as she moved out of the way, retreating a little deeper into the bedroom.

"Yes, that's right," Cinderella said, as she opened the door to find Lucien's face looking sombre on the other side. "Lucien, what are you doing here?"

She took a few steps backward to allow him to enter the room. As he stepped out of the slightly shadowy corridor and into the light she could see that he did not look sombre but apologetic. "What am I doing here? Shouldn't you be asking me why I didn't come sooner?"

"Um, why would I ask you that?" Cinderella asked in genuine confusion. "I don't demand that you visit me."

"But the attack!" Lucien exclaimed. "When I heard what had happened I was so distraught, but…I should have been here. I should have been here to comfort you, to protect you...please forgive me." He bowed down extravagantly before her, spreading his arms out wide as he dropped to one knee.

"Please, Lucien, don't be silly," Cinderella said, feeling her cheeks flush at his melodramatic display. "Please get up. It's probably for the best that you didn't come. On that day…I wasn't really in much of a state to receive visitors."

"Was it terrible?" Lucien asked, as he rose to his feet.

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "Yes," she admitted. "Yes, it was."

"I cannot believe that anyone would choose to snuff such radiance out of the world," Lucien murmured, as with one hand he reached out for Cinderella's cheek.

"AHEM," Angelique said, more loudly than necessary.

Lucien jumped a little, as if he were only now noticing that Angelique were in the room.

"Hello," Angelique said in a decidedly pointed tone.

"Oh, I am sorry," Cinderella murmured. "Please forgive me. Angelique, this is Monsieur Lucien Gerard, Lucien this is Mademoiselle Angelique Bonnet, one of my ladies in waiting."

"Enchantee, Mademoiselle," Lucien said, bowing low to grab Angelique's hand and raise it to his lips. "Forgive me, but I have not heard of you before."

Angelique looked wary for some reason as she essayed a very minimal curtsy. "That's alright, I haven't heard much about you either. Perhaps it's better that way."

"Better?"

"We can judge one another on the way that we behave, not on our reputations."

Lucien chuckled. "Perhaps. But for now, if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone with Cinderella."

Angelique glanced at Cinderella. "I don't think that would be a very good idea."

"I…I agree," Cinderella said softly. She remembered what Duchamp had told her about her reputation, and the way that she had intensely disapproved of the last time Lucien had come up to her room. "If…well, I know that you don't have any inappropriate intentions, Lucien, but people might talk. With Angelique here, it makes everything much more innocent."

A look of disappointment flitted across Lucien's face. "I understand. Of course, a princess must have a chaperone in the presence of a bachelor."

"I'm glad you understand," Cinderella said, for she didn't want to offend him. "Do you want to sit down?"

"No, I'm afraid I can't stop that long."

Cinderella giggled. "One of these days you'll have to come and see me and actually stay awhile, Lucien. It's as if you're always passing through."

"Well, I wouldn't want to outstay my welcome."

"Lucien!" Cinderella exclaimed. "You were one of the first people in the palace to be kind to me; you gave me reassurance when I needed it the most, you're always welcome. Tell me that you know that, tell me that you were just joking."

Lucien grinned boyishly. "Shall we say that I hoped that it was so? Aside from the recent unpleasantness, how are things?"

"Well, they…" Cinderella sighed.

Lucien put his hands on her arms. Cinderella could feel his grip through the white silk of her sleeves as he rubbed his palms up and down. "What else is the matter?"

Cinderella looked down. "One of my other ladies, Theodora, she…she was only pretending to be my friend. She tried to hurt me."

"Heaven send that she did not succeed," Lucien murmured.

"No, she didn't," Cinderella replied. "But that didn't make it any easier to find out."

Lucien's grip upon her tightened a little. "There are times, I confess, when I think you would be happier elsewhere than in this place, Cinderella."

Cinderella looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…your marriage puts you in danger, it exposes you to people like that, if you were someone else-"

"Then I wouldn't know Eugene," Cinderella pointed out. "I wouldn't know love."

Lucien shrugged. "Perhaps you could love somebody else?"

"No," Cinderella said, with certainty ringing in her voice. "No, there isn't anyone else. I'm sure of that. Although…"

"Although?"

"That didn't stop someone leaving me a love note on my bed last night," Cinderella told him. "A Roman poem, by Cat-somebody."

"Catullus?"

"Yes, that's right," Cinderella said. "I've got a secret admirer."

"You must be flattered."

"I…" Cinderella was silent for a moment. "No, I'm not, except…" Except that that wasn't quite as true as she would have liked. She loved Eugene, with all her heart she loved him, she was certain that she would love no one else and yet…and yet even though they were wasting their time, the part of her where her vanity lurked, the part of her that delighted in the knowledge that she was beautiful and thought to be beautiful what was more, also delighted in the fact that she attracted the attentions of men from all around, as unrealistic as their attentions were.

It was wrong of her to feel that way, and unconscionably vain, but there it was. It was only a small part of her that felt so, but she could not quite deny it.

"Except," Lucien repeated. He laughed. "What a multitude of feelings can fit into an 'except'."

Cinderella didn't laugh. "Really, I feel sorry for them. Nothing can ever come of it. It can never be."

Lucien nodded sagely, but said nothing. He cupped her chin delicately with his fingers. "You still look so sad, in spite of everything."

Cinderella smiled briefly. "I don't feel sad. It's just…this life isn't as perfect as I might have hoped. But then that's my fault, because what in life is perfect, really?"

"You deserve perfection," Lucien declared. "I wish that there was something I could do to make you happy."

"Not talking about any of this would make me happy," Cinderella said. "What about you, Lucien, how are you? Did you get a good price for the bracelet I gave you?"

Lucien hung his head. "Alas, I still have it."

"Still have it? But why?"

"Because…" Lucien looked a trifle embarrassed. "Because it was a gift from you, and for that reason I find that I cannot bear to part with it."

"Oh, Lucien," Cinderella shook her head, but she also kissed him on the cheek. "That's very sweet of you but also very foolish. I gave you that bracelet so that you could help yourself."

"The fact that I have your favour helps me more than any amount of money ever could."

"Lucien," Cinderella sighed. "Let me help you, really help you. How much money do you need?"

Lucien hesitated. "No, Cinderella, I couldn't-"

"Yes, you can," Cinderella replied. "I won't take no for an answer. Lucien has given me a share of his allowance, more money than I could ever spend. How much?"

Lucien thought for a moment. "Two hundred pounds would clear my debts and allow me to invest in a ship bound for Haiti. The profits are guaranteed to be many times the stake."

"Oh, that's wonderful, you'll be able to build from there," Cinderella said.

"What's the name of the ship?" Angelique asked.

"Pardon?"

"I'm just curious, that's all," Angelique said casually.

"Um….the _Lovely Lucy_ , I think," Lucien said. "Or something like that."

"Oh, very nice," Angelique said.

"Yes, it is," Cinderella agreed. "Angelique, will you help me get that chest out from under the bed?"

Angelique looked a little as though she had sucked on a particularly sour lime, but nevertheless she helped Cinderella drag out the chest where her immediate money was stored. It was not the whole of her yearly allowance, that could not have fit into a box that was only about a foot square, but there were several hundred pounds in there, in various denominations. Cinderella unlocked the chest, and fished a pair of gold sovereigns out of the chest and pressed them into Lucien's hands. "There. With my compliments."

Lucien stared down at the coins in his hand, and then looked up at her. "You are as generous as you are beautiful. I…I should go."

"Please come again soon," Cinderella said. "I always like seeing you."

"I will," Lucien agreed. "I…I will." He slipped the sovereigns into his coat pocket, and bowed to her, before he turned and opened the door only to find- "Oh, please forgive me, Mademoiselle."

"Lucrecia?" Cinderella said, looking around Lucien to see Lucrecia standing in the doorway with her head bowed, trembling slightly. "What are you doing here?"

Lucien stepped aside as Lucrecia walked slowly and softly into the bedroom. "I...I'm sorry, your highness. I know that it isn't my place to bother you with my troubles, but...but I don't know who else I could speak to about this, and I..."

"Lucrecia," Cinderella sighed, as she enfolded the other woman in a gentle embrace. "It's alright. You can always come to me if you have any troubles. Come on, let's get you sat down and you can tell me all about it."

She led Lucrecia through the dressing room and, still in Cinderella's warm embrace, into the sitting room beyond. There Cinderella set her down upon the settee, with Cinderella herself beside her, while Angelique and Lucien took seats on either side like two towers flanking a great gate.

"Now, whatever is the matter?" Cinderella asked. "And what can I do to help?"

"I'm not sure, your highness, I just...it's Etienne," Lucrecia confessed. "I'm worried that...I'm worried that some of things your ladies said about him might have been true."

Cinderella gasped. "Really? What makes you say such a thing?"

"I asked him about them," Lucrecia said. "I...I needed to know that it was false. I needed him to tell me so, and he did. But...but when it came to the child, to his child, he...he didn't deny it. In fact he got so angry, that I..."

"Oh, Lucrecia," Cinderella said softly. She felt for her, she really did. Cinderella knew well that the higher your hopes and expectations for a thing, the greater the disappointment when the thing turned sour: she could have borne with mere melancholy being unable to attend the royal ball because she had not finished all her chores or had time to prepare a dress, but after her friends had made her such a dress, after daring to believe that she would go to the ball, to have both dress and dream cruelly ripped away had been more than she could bear. So it was now with Lucrecia: she had given herself up to love, to the most magical and uplifting of all sensations; and now the shattering of that love was casting her into a sunless abyss. "I'm so sorry. I would never have thought that one of Eugene's friends would...perhaps it isn't what it seems?"

"I'm afraid it is," Lucien said. "I confronted him about the exact same thing, once. I only wanted to ask him if there was anything that I could do to help him in any way, and he grew furious. He practically attacked me, threatened me with violence...underneath his self-righteous affectations I fear my brother is nothing but a brute."

"That isn't how Marinette sees it," Angelique pointed out.

"Marinette is a sweet girl, but sheltering has made her naive," Lucien declared. "She is not a man of the world and therefore her judgement ought not to be relied upon, bless her."

"Then you believe it too?" Cinderella asked, looking up at him over Lucrecia's head.

Lucien nodded gravely. "I do. I don't see how I could not."

"I'm such a fool," Lucrecia wailed. "I thought...I thought that...I'm such an idiot and now I've lost everything."

"No!" Cinderella exclaimed. "No, you haven't, Lucrecia, of course you haven't."

Lucrecia looked up at her with watery eyes. "But...but your highness, I-"

"You are my dressmaker," Cinderella said, in a tone that brooked no argument. "For as long as you wish to make me gowns it will be my pleasure to wear them. Who else in the whole country could make me look as beautiful as you?"

Lucrecia blushed. "Your highness is too kind to my small skill, but if it comes out-"

"It won't," Cinderella assured her. "I'll keep your secret, and so will Angelique and Lucien, won't you?"

"No one will hear a word from me," Angelique said. Lucien merely nodded.

"And...and if you like," Cinderella said. "I could speak to Colonel Gerard myself and see if he will explain himself and the way he has treated you to me."

"That's not a good idea," Lucien said quickly. "Cinderella, haven't you heard what I've said. My brother is dangerous." He stood up, and moved closer to her as if he meant to protect her from some unseen menace. "If you confront him about this, I'm he'll hurt you, perhaps worse."

"Yes, because he'd certainly get away with that, wouldn't he?" Angelique said sharply. "I'm sure his good friend the prince would just shrug off attacking his wife."

"I think Angelique has a point, Lucien," Cinderella said mildly. "Eugene would never allow Colonel Gerard to hurt me."

"Neither of you know him as I do," Lucien insisted. "Underneath he is a savage!"

"It's alright, your highness, you don't have to fight my battles for me," Lucrecia said. "Please don't trouble yourself on my account."

"Are you sure?" Cinderella asked.

"Quite sure, your highness," Lucrecia said. "This was my folly, I will have to live with the consequences of it."

When Lucien and Lucrecia had both taken their leave, and Cinderella was alone once more with Angelique, the latter folded her arms and said, "You know, I'd quite like to find out what's going on myself, if you're curious."

"You would?" Cinderella asked. "Why?"

"Because Jean thinks a lot of that Colonel Gerard," Angelique reminded her. "He looks up to him. I'd hate for it to turn out that he'd been taken in by a...by someone unworthy."

"I have to admit, I don't like the idea of someone who could treat Lucrecia that way being Eugene's friend," Cinderella murmured. Who knew what mischief or wickedness he had led Eugene into in the past, or would lead him to in future? Not to mention poor Lucrecia; she might say that she didn't want Cinderella to waste her time helping her, but Cinderella still felt an obligation to do something; she liked Lucrecia, she hated the thought of her languishing in misery. "But what can we do?"

Angelique's smiled was as sharp as a knife. "I might just have a way of finding out what's really going on. It won't be instant, but it will be the truth."

"How?"

"Probably best you don't know, princess."

"Angelique," Cinderella said with just a touch of sternness. "If it's something immoral, then-"

"It isn't," Angelique replied. "Not...no, it isn't. It's just...maybe not the sort of thing a princess should be involved in. And..."

"And what?"

"And...I hate to say it, but...I'm afraid it won't be free, either," Angelique murmured.

"I see," Cinderella whispered. "Do you need some money?"

"I'm afraid so," Angelique said. "Though I'll need a lot less than you just gave to Lucien Gerard for no return."

"I get the feeling you don't like Lucien very much."

"I don't know him, I can only judge what I've seen," Angelique replied, which was not much of an answer at all, but Cinderella did not feel like pressing the issue with her at the moment. Angelique's opinion of Lucien was the least of her concerns.

"How much money do you need?" she asked.

"Ten pounds should do it," Angelique said. "Ten pounds for all the answers."

* * *

Angelique wore her old rags as she walked briskly down one of the many narrow, overshadowed, dirty alleyways that littered the capital. They felt...comfortable on her, for all that they were a few weeks unfamiliar to her skin. Slipping them on again had been like putting her hand into a well-moulded glove. They fit her. They...suited her.

Doubtless some day the time would come when she no longer felt this way, when they would feel alien to her skin; a time would come when she moved nearly as elegantly as Cinderella, and pretty dresses felt as natural to her.

But that day had not come yet.

And besides, she could never have done what she was about to do while wearing a pretty dress.

"You lost, girl? I'll show you the way for a price."

Angelique smirked as she turned around to confront the scruffy, jug-eared boy who had emerged out of the shadows to bar the way behind her. "You threatening me, Tom? Careful now, or I'll take that broom handle and give you a spanking with it."

Tom's eyes widened. "Angelique? Angelique, is that you?"

"Who else would come down here to see you?" Angelique replied flippantly. "How are you, Tommy? How's the gang?"

"You know us, we make do," Tom said. "But what about you? Nobody's seen you nor Jean for two weeks now. We thought you must have been sent to the workhouse or something. Did you escape?"

"No," Angelique said. "It's not the workhouse that's got us, it's the palace."

Tom scoffed. "Come on, Angelique, be serious."

"I am," Angelique replied, her voice soft. "I've joined the quality, so I have."

"What, you in a silk dress?"

"It looks as strange as it sounds, believe me."

"And Jean?"

"He's an officer now, so he is. He's got a blue coat and a sash and everything."

Tom shook his head as he swaggered up to her. "So if you're all posh now, what you doing here? You got fed up with all them quality up there and come home to us?"

Angelique chuckled. "It might come to that, but not yet. I'm here...I'm here because I've got a job for you, for you and the gang, if you're up to it."

Tom grinned. "Anything for you, Angelique, you know that."

"We'll see," Angelique replied. "You know the big house on Montparnass Row, number four?"

Tom nodded. "I know it."

"Two men live there. I need you to follow the pair of them," Angelique said. "Watch where they go, and tell me when I come back." That was not entirely what Cinderella had had in mind when she had agreed to Angelique's nebulous scheme, and Angelique felt just a twinge of guilt at the dishonesty. Not that she was being really dishonest, because she hadn't actually lied to Cinderella about it; in fact she'd been quite honest when she said it was best that Cinderella not know the detail of her intentions. It wasn't what had been asked of her, but...well, she just couldn't quite bring herself to trust Lucien Gerard. Whether it was the way that all his protestations had ultimately boiled down to asking for money, whether it was the slightly grabby way that he behaved towards Cinderella (she's married to someone else, don't stroke her face!), or whether it was just something about him, but she didn't trust him. Nothing about his behaviour had inclined her to trust him, in fact his desire to get her out of the room so he could be alone with Cinderella had rather put her back up. You only needed to be alone if you were going to discuss or do things that you didn't want other people to know about, so what were his intentions?

Well, since she was conveniently here and going to be setting a watch on Etienne Gerard she might as well turn some eyes on his brother while she was at it.

"I'll pay you five pounds now," she added. "And five more when I come back."

"For you, Angelique, I'd do it for nothing."

"Oh, really?"

"Well...no, not really, but it sounded grand didn't it?"

"Yes, very gallant," Angelique muttered with a roll of her eyes. "Can you do it?"

"Can we do it?" Tom repeated. "Consider it done, Angelique. We'll have all their secrets quick as you like."

"That," said Angelique. "Is exactly what I wanted to hear."

* * *

 _Author's Note: So I said I was done taking bits from Sunset in a Gilded Frame, didn't I? Well, I did re-use the Catullus poem because it fits so well with what Lucien is after; it is, as Eugene says, a poem begging for an affair._

 _I find that I keep cutting Lucien's POV, because I'm coming to the conclusion that he works best if you don't know what he's thinking/get subjected to his thoughts. He's been particularly nasty in this chapter, I must admit, tattling on his brother like that._


	21. Etienne's Confession

Etienne's Confession

Two weeks passed. Cinderella began - only a few days belatedly, all things considered - her education in all the things that a princess must and ought to know as well as all the things that a well-bred young lady would have learned by the age of nineteen if she had not been forced into servitude by her stepmother. She began to learn the history of Armorique from its foundation, although the early stage of Cinderella's by-necessity truncated education focussed initially upon the nation's more recent past, its recent wars and present alliances. She learned the geography of the country, its neighbours and its colonies overseas. She began to learn Latin, with an emphasis upon recognising any quotation that might be bandied about the court (and thought herself lucky that it was no longer fashionable to quote in Greek). Cinderella found that she could begin to understand - several weeks too late- the questions with which Colonel Gerard had tested her on her first night in the palace: the war between Anjou and the Holy Roman Empire (even with a cursory understanding of the issue Cinderella remained convinced that they were well off out of it) or the demands of the Louisiana colony for a voice in the governance (that seemed only fair to be quite honest). It was, of course, too late; but it brought a wry smile to Cinderella's face regardless.

Sometimes Angelique joined her for these lessons, since she was in some ways even more ignorant than Cinderella herself, but at other times she had her own lessons in etiquette, posture, dancing and the other feminine arts that Cinderella had managed somehow to master in spite of her servitude.

Some of her lessons were less academic, though not necessarily more fun. Cinderella begged off learning to ride after getting thrown from her horse in the yard and hitting her head on the ground, she was stunned so badly that she had to spend the rest of the day in bed; Serena urged her to try again but Eugene supported Cinderella's decision to stick to carriages for the time being. She began the slow process of making up ground on her musical instruments, lost since she was a little girl: Eugene assisted her with the flute, Grace with the piano and Augustina with the violin. Cinderella was nowhere near good enough to be heard yet, but she was beginning to relearn what lack of practice had caused her to forget.

Cinderella had also been continuing to work through Adam Smith's somewhat ponderous tome. It was hard work, she had to admit, harder than anything that was being fed to her as part of her regular curriculum, but she was determined to get through it. To do otherwise would be an admission of failure, and Cinderella was determined not to make such an admission.

Not when it seemed as though there were so many people waiting for her to fail.

She frowned down at the book in her lap and tried to wrap her mi d around what Smith was saying in this paragraph.

"Too much swotting will ruin your looks," Augustina observed.

Cinderella looked up. Augustina had come in without Cinderella hearing her, and now she was sat opposite Cinderella with a somewhat bemused look on her face.

"Swotting?"

"Sorry, that's what we called it at school," Augustina explained. "Studying, book-learning, reading."

Cinderella smiled. "I'm sure that isn't true."

Augustina shrugged her shoulders. "You may scoff, but I've seen it happen."

Cinderella chuckled, "Thank you for the warning, but I think I'll take the risk."

Augustina stared at her. "That...well, that's your choice, of course, but..."

" But?"

Augustina said, "But if I were you I wouldn't take that book for my bible economic or political. Not...not from the impression you give of what you really want."

Cinderella frowned. "Why not? Eugene recommended this to me."

"His Highness' politics are not yours, for however much that amounts to," Augustina replied.

"Or perhaps he didn't really understand."

"Eugene told me that it would explain the arguments for free trade," Cinderella said. "So far it seems to, as far as I can tell."

"It will," Augustina said. "But you won't care a hoot for the poor once you get to the end of it."

"You sound very sure of that," Cinderella noted.

"What you have in your hand is a book about how far little middle-class parvenus can make even more money than they are already," Augustina said bluntly. "It has no concern for the poor whatsoever. If you read it you'll understand free trade; and you'll understand why leaving the poor to for in the name of laissez faire is the only moral and equitable thing to do."

Cinderella frowned. "But the price of bread-"

"Yes, Yes, the price of bread; that's all we ever hear from these people!" exclaimed Augustina. "You notice that none of your fine radical friends ever suggest that if they paid their workers higher wages then those same workers could afford bread at a higher price but no. We must beggar ourselves for the sake of their profits."

"The people that I have met don't seem so cynical or so heartless," Cinderella declared.

Augustina let out a harrumph. "Well, maybe they're not all that bad. But you haven't seen the coal mines or the factories or the workhouse. You haven't seen the world these people seek to build; it is not a compassionate one, it has no place for those who fall behind." Augustina leaned forwards. "These men of the Anti-Corn Law League, the radicals of the chamber are more false than ever Theodora was to you or to those common people who support them. If you want to know who truly cares for the poor then look to the nobility, look to us."

Cinderella chose her next words with great care. "Augustina...forgive me, but...what I saw of the other side in the Chamber didn't inspire me to think that they spoke for the poorest."

"I said care, not speak," corrected Augustina. "Cinderella, your Highness, there are fifty tenant families upon the land owned by my family around our country estate. I know the names of all of them. When they are sick we visit them and send our doctor to attend upon them. When they are fallen on hard times we reduce their rent rather than see them thrown out of their homes. We attend their weddings, and their christenings and their funerals. We are a part of their tapestry of life and they a part of ours. It's called noblesse oblige and we've been practicing it for centuries. Can any factory owner say as much? It is easy to talk of reducing the wealth of the magnates, but what of the tenant farmers whose income will be slashed so that the steel-mill owner may loosen out his belt?"

"So you think I should do what, Augustina?" Cinderella asked. "Nothing?"

"I think you should carefully consider whose side you're on," Augustina said. "And whether or not it's the right one."

Cinderella was silent for a moment. "Augustina, have you read this book? You seem to know a great deal about it."

Augustina looked a little puzzled by the abruptness of the question. "I have, as it happens. My father always says that if the enemy is considerate to punish his plan of attack the least you can do is read it."

"And yet reading it didn't cause you to change your mind," Cinderella pointed out gently.

Augustine's face froze for a moment. "Well, no...but that isn't really...I mean to say..."

"Perhaps you mean to say that I'm more easily persuaded than you are?" Cinderella suggested mildly.

Augustina scowled. "No, of course not, I just...I'm sorry. I just want you to make the right choice."

"I think," Cinderella said, speaking softly and slowly in equal measure. "That I can best make the right choice by choosing for myself."

"Indeed," Augustina murmured, sounding ever so slightly put out.

Cinderella was silent for a moment. "Suppose that I had agreed with you, Augustina; suppose that I had put this book aside and asked you to recommend something else. What would you have put in my hands instead?"

"But you didn't agree with me," Augustina said.

"No, but nevertheless," said Cinderella.

Augustina frowned. "I would say…the blue books, to begin with, they have some very harrowing descriptions of industrial poverty and the way these free trading industrialists conduct their affairs."

"Do you think they have these blue books in the library?"

"I'm sure they do, but…" Augustina hesitated for a moment. "What is it that you actually mean to do?"

"To start with I intend to read all I can, and learn all I can," Cinderella murmured. "And then I shall do what is right, or try to persuade others to do so."

"What is right?" Augustina asked. "That's…a statement we could argue about. Be careful?"

"Be careful," Cinderella repeated. "Why should I be careful?"

"Politics is rarely kind to those who try to straddle both sides of the divide," Augustina said. "Usually you end up pleasing neither, and earning the enmity of both. Your radical friends may not appreciate you criticising them as well as their enemies."

"I hope that, if they are really my friends, then they won't object to my having principles."  
"One would hope so," Augustina remarked dryly. "But, frankly, Cinderella, I wouldn't have thought that you had the stomach to betray your own allies."

"I don't intend to betray anyone," Cinderella replied. "My only aim is to make things better. Now, would you please come with me to the library and show me where these blue books are?"

And so those two weeks passed in a mixture of reading and learning, enlivened by very little in the way of social events or formal engagements, but also undisturbed by any more assassination attempts or unpleasant behaviour. Those two weeks were, however, disturbed by the arrival of more handwritten notes in that same cursive hand left on Cinderella's bed. In the space of that fortnight five more notes were delivered to Cinderella's bedroom, each of them accompanied by at least one rose, though twice a bouquet of six roses, three dark red and three pink, was left with the letter. Sometimes they were waiting for Cinderella when she came upstairs for bed, other times they arrived very early in the morning and must have been delivered when she was at breakfast. Sometimes they quoted romantic poetry, at other times they simply pleaded for love and understanding; actually, no, it was not quite right to say that they pleaded. Rather, the notes that poured out the soul of him who wrote the notes seemed to take it as read that love already existed between them and focussed his attention on persuading Cinderella to let down her defences and submit to her inner passions, as though it were the propriety of a married woman or the stern morality of the bourgeoisie that were preventing Cinderella from falling into the arms of this strange seducer and not the simple fact that she loved another man with all her heart. Since in one letter he invited her to leave him a note in return confirming her feelings, Cinderella had written back telling him plainly, but not unkindly, that she did not love him, whoever he was, and never would.

 _If you truly care for me, if you truly value my feelings, then I beg you to cease pursuing me this way; it does not nothing except upset me. I do not love you. I cannot love you. Please stop this, for my sake and for yours._

So Cinderella had concluded her reply. It hadn't stopped the flow of more letters from her anonymous suitor. Eugene thought that he would get bored eventually, but Cinderella wished that he would grow bored now, whoever he was, as it was getting the point where she half dreaded returning to her bedroom after leaving it, for fear of what she might find.

Cinderella had come to reluctantly suspect that it might be somebody that she knew, based purely on the fact that Bruno was familiar enough with him to let him come and go unmolested, but…but she didn't really want to think about that because it would seem to make Jean the likeliest suspect and she very, very much hoped that that was not the case.

She didn't want to be betrayed by another friend.

Lucien visited fairly often. Three times in a fortnight. Once he stayed for tea, with Cinderella and her ladies, and took a great interest in how Marinette was fairing; another time he called only on Cinderella and Marinette, and the third time he managed somehow to catch Cinderella alone for a moment before Angelique came in and looked at him as though he had a bad smell.

Once he asked her for more money, confessing that he had lost a little of that which Cinderella had earlier loaned to him in a game of cards. But he had assured her that he did not gamble often, and told her that he needed only a little more to be free of some very frightening creditors, and so Cinderella had acceded and given him another thirty pounds.

To say that Angelique had been unimpressed was a bit of an understatement.

"Does all his money come this way?" she demanded of Marinette, when those two and Cinderella were alone together in the sitting room. "I know he's your brother, but…is that how he gets by, he just goes round people he knows asking for handouts?"

"He only bothers people when he doesn't have anywhere else to turn too," Marinette replied softly. "A lot of people misunderstand Lucien; he's actually a very sensitive soul, and he tries hard not to be a burden."

"I could think of a few words for him but 'sensitive' might not be one of them," Angelique muttered.

Marinette looked down. "As I said, a lot of people misunderstand him. It's just…sometimes he gets into trouble, and when he does he needs a helping hand. It can't be helped. And I…"

Cinderella looked at her. "Go on, Marinette."

"Before, Lucien would usually go to Etienne or Maman when he got into trouble," Marinette said. "But…well, since they don't have very much, would you mind me saying that I think it's good he has someone with, well, with more to come to. I always worried that Etienne wouldn't be able to find enough money, if it came to it. Last year, Lucien got into such a mess that he said he might have to kill himself if he couldn't get two hundred pounds in a hurry."

"Oh, no," Cinderella cried. "What was the matter?"

"I don't know, Etienne managed to sort it all out in time," Marinette said. "But mother was so worried about him. He's…he's her baby boy, and he's so sensitive."

Angelique said nothing, but her face spoke volumes.

* * *

So two weeks passed, until Angelique returned to the little alley lost amidst the labyrinth of the capital to meet again with Tom.

"There you are, Angelique," Tom hailed her as he swaggered down the alley towards her. "I was starting to think you weren't going to turn up. Starting to think the workhouse had got you."

"No fear, they never could catch me," Angelique said lightly. She hugged her tattered woollen shawl tightly around her arms. "I take it from your step and your expression that you've found out some things."

Tom grinned. "Don't I ever get to see you in one of your fancy dresses, Angelique? It's one thing to get told you've joined the quality, but it would be nice to see what you look like dressed all ladylike."

"Trust me, it's better that you just imagine what I look like," Angelique said. _You probably don't imagine me looking like a cake half the time._ "Did you manage to follow the both of them?"

Tom nodded. "Me and the lads followed them both all over town. Which do you want to know more about, the stony-faced one or the other one?"

"The other one," Angelique replied, taking that to be Lucien. Although the purpose of this exercise was to find out about Etienne's secrets for the benefit of Jean, Cinderella and Lucrecia, she found that she was more curious about the other brother at the moment, if only because he had been more on her mind and present in her life lately.

There was something about Lucien Gerard that got her back up, although Angelique was willing to admit that there was an element of hypocrisy in the idea of her, Angelique Bonnet, standing in judgement of a man like that. What, after all, was the main cause of her dislike: that he took money from Cinderella, and from other people if what his sister said was true, rather than working.

Except that she and Jean hadn't actually been employed when they came into the princess' service, and they had both picked a pocket or two in their time to get by. So what was the difference, really, between Lucien and Angelique except that Lucien's victims willingly handed over their money to him?

 _I never flattered anybody,_ Angelique thought. _I never convinced anybody that I cared about them before I stole from them._

That was probably what irked her the most, the fact that she didn't really believe that Lucien gave a damn about Cinderella at the end of the day and yet she clearly thought he did.

 _Can she not find any real friends? Can she not befriend anyone trustworthy?_ She didn't deserve to feel the pain of any more betrayals.

And besides, it wasn't as though she and Jean hadn't tried to work. Things just…things had just never gone quite right.

Lucien probably told himself the exact same thing.

 _I may not be that much better than you when all's said and done but that doesn't make you a good man and it certainly doesn't make you trustworthy._

"I'm not sure why you asked me to follow him, Angelique, you probably know where that one goes better than I do," Tom said. "He's up to the palace every day."

"Every day?" Angelique repeated. "We're not talking about the officer, are we? We're talking about the one-"

"The one dressed like a gent, I know," Tom said. "The officer's old stony face, and he's up to the palace all the time as well, but-"

"I knew that," Angelique interrupted. "But the other one, the one in a nice suit, he comes to the palace every day? Are you sure?"

"I may not be all la-de-dah like you but I know when a day starts and when it finishes."

"Sorry," Angelique said. "I just…" _Where does he go if he isn't visiting Cinderella? Where does he go and what does he do every other day?_ It occurred to her that he might be having some kind of affair with one of the serving girls or something. If so…well, bad luck for the poor girl who got stuck with him but good luck for Cinderella.

"By the way I'm a bit disappointed in you," Tom said. "You could have told me there was a secret way into the palace; I would have used it to raid the kitchen for some of that fancy grub."

"Secret entrance?" Angelique asked. "I've never heard about any secret entrance."

Tom clucked his tongue and shook his head despairingly. "Angelique, I am disappointed. What happened to the girl we used to know?"

"She was forced to put on a dress, what's this about a secret entrance?"

"Some old gate set in the wall near the park," Tom says. "It's how the lanky one comes and goes."

 _That doesn't sound in the least bit suspicious._ "How long does he stay?"

"Usually not very long. It depends."

Angelique nodded. Tom and his friends couldn't give her the details of what Lucien got up to once he was in the palace, unfortunately. She would have to find that out for herself.

"Where else does he go?" she asked.

"From one pub to the other, it seems like."

"I see," Angelique muttered. _Sensitive soul my foot._ "Does he meet anyone?"

"We didn't follow him inside, but he often comes out with the same fellow. Another well dressed sort."

"Probably a drinking pal or something," Angelique said softly. It was something – especially the bit about his palace visits – but it wasn't particularly earth-shattering. Still, she supposed that at least it wasn't definitely proven that he was up to something; as much as she didn't trust Lucien she didn't really want to have to tell Cinderella that he was playing her false.

Meeting with Cinderella's mice had, besides giving Angelique a greater appreciation of Cinderella's inner strength, given Angelique…if not an understanding then at least a theory as to why Cinderella could trust people like Lucien Gerard and Serena de Montcalm: in the house where she had grown up the world had been divided into two between those like the mice who were her faithful and enthusiastic friends and supporters and those like her stepfamily who made their hatred of her known loud and clear; as a result she'd never come across anybody really two-faced before, and had no idea even to look for it, let alone what to do once she had found it.

It might not be true, but it made sense to Angelique.

"What about the other brother?" she asked. "What about the stone-faced officer?"

"He goes to the palace too, only he uses the front gate," Tom said. "He spends most of his day there most often, sometimes he goes to the Gatehouse, sometimes he goes round the barracks on Eastwall Street. Some nights he goes to the pub but he doesn't stay very long. And every couple of days he goes down to St Joan Avenue and spends a few hours in a little house there."

Angelique frowned. St Joan Avenue was in a part of town that was poor, but respectable. The sort of place where working families lived. It wasn't the kind of place where a rake would go for an assignation, or probably not. "A house? Is he alone in there?"

"Whether he's alone when he gets there I don't know," Tom said. "But we watched the house for a bit because it was the only place he went that we didn't understand. There's a woman lives there, and a little boy too. We've seen 'em."

Angelique closed her eyes for a moment. _So it's true then. There is a child, and a woman too sounds like. Lucrecia was lucky to get out when she did._

She opened her eyes, and scowled. Jean looked up to this man. He enjoyed the prince's friendship, he'd had a good thing going with Lucrecia and all the time…all the time he had been just as bad as his brother, maybe worse. Self-righteous hypocrite.

It was for Jean that she was most offended. Jean took him to be a model officer, and exemplar of the behaviour that he should strive to emulate, and now…

 _He'd better not emulate that._

Anger filled her like smoke rising from a fire. She wanted to know why. She wanted to stare into his eyes and let him know that his secret was out.

She wanted to give him a piece of her mind.

"Can you take me to this house?" she asked.

* * *

Cinderella was in the stable, visiting her horse, Major, when Angelique found her. She stroked the old stallion's grey coat with one hand, even as she fed him an apple with the other.

"There you are, isn't that nice?" she murmured. In response to a snuffling noise from the horse, she said, "Yes, I know, I should come by more often...Bruno has nearly as much cause to complain, and the mice have more. Sometimes it seems that there aren't nearly enough hours in the day."

She sighed as the last of apple disappeared into Major's mouth.

Cinderella was dressed in a dark brown skirt, narrow and ankle length which at least ensured that it would not pick up any straw or dirt on the stable floor, as well as revealing the black and white boots that tightly embraced her feet. Her blouse was tan, and her waistcoat a slightly lighter brown than the skirt. She wore a black ribbon tie in a bow under the collar of her blouse, and her hair hung loose around her shoulders. A very casual outfit, for a day in which nothing much had happened or was expected to happen.

And then Angelique emerged into the stable doorway, casting a shadow down the central traverse. For some reason she was dressed in her old clothes, from before Cinderella had taken her and Jean into the service of the crown: a tattered and dirt-stained dress that might have been white once but now was turning grey at best, a threadbare woollen shawl, a crumbling pair of shoes. She looked pale, and yet at the same time she also looked a little bit green. Angelique looked, moreover, as though she would rather be anywhere else at this precise moment.

Angelique sighed deeply. "There you are. I...I thought for a moment that I wouldn't find you." Her tone suggested that that prospect would not have been altogether disagreeable.

"Angelique," Cinderella said, turning away from her horse to take a few steps closer to the other girl. Her boots tapped upon the stone of the stable floor. "Angelique, are you alright? You look ill, and...and why are you dressed that way."

"I...I feel a little bit ill," Angelique confessed.

"Shall I send for a doctor?"

Angelique shook her head. "It isn't that kind of an illness," she said. "And I'm dressed like this because...it doesn't really matter, what matters is that you need to come with me. I've got Jean waiting to look after you."

Cinderella took another few steps closer towards her. "Come with you? But where?"

"It's best if you just come and see for yourself," Angelique said wearily.

Cinderella's left hand, upon which sat her wedding ring, rose to her heart. The tips of her fingers rushed against the silk ribbon tie. "Angelique, you're being so...it's starting to worry me."

Angelique looked her in the eyes. "I...I'm not going to lie to you; this won't be pleasant. But you need to see it. I...you asked me not to lie to you, and so...please come with me."

"But if you won't even tell me where we're going...what will I tell Eugene."

"Don't tell him anything."

Cinderella frowned. "He won't like me sneaking off without telling him where I am."

"He won't like you going where I'm about to take you, either, that's why it's best he doesn't know...yet," Angelique replied. "Look, I know I'm not making this sound very appealing, but...please, just trust me. You need to come with me. Right now."

Cinderella could have said no. She could have said no and been justified in so refusing for a half dozen reasons: the air of mystery surrounding Angelique's request, her refusal to say why Cinderella should come, her demand that she keep it a secret from Eugene...Cinderella could have refused for any or all of those reasons. But against all of that was set Angelique's request for trust. She had asked Cinderella to trust her.

And Angelique had not yet proven herself unworthy of that trust. The opposite, in fact.

"Very well," Cinderella said calmly. "Lead the way."

Angelique led her out of the stables and into the gardens, where Jean was waiting with an expression that suggested that Angelique had been every bit as close-mouthed to him about all of this as she had been to Cinderella.

"This way," Angelique said, as she led them both to the secret side gate that Lucien had shown her once, and used to help get her out of the palace when she was feeling melancholy about her prospects. Cinderella wasn't sure if she was more surprised by the fact that Angelique knew about this or about the fact that the gate was open.

"What is this?" Jean muttered.

"A secret doorway," Cinderella replied. "But how did you open it?" _I thought Lucien had the only key._

"I didn't," Angelique said. "Somebody had already opened it."

"Do you know who?" Cinderella asked. _Was Lucien wrong about how secret this is?_

"Um, no, not for certain," Angelique replied. "Anyway, the point is there are no guards on this door to stop you from leaving, Cinderella."

"I do not like this," Jean declared. "I don't like this at all, your highness; you should not go this way."

Angelique rounded on him. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not the one talking about the princess walking through the streets, unless you have a carriage waiting out there," Jean replied. "It is too dangerous."

"That's why you're here," Angelique pointed out.

"Perhaps I'm not so confident in my abilities as you."

"If Cinderella were dressed like a princess then I might agree, but as it is I doubt anybody will even recognise her," Angelique said. "Please, both of you, once we get there you will understand why I needed to behave like this, but until then you have to trust me."

Jean exhaled out of his nostrils. "I would trust you with me life, Angelique, but this...I suppose, if your highness is willing..."

Cinderella nodded. "I am. I'm too curious now to turn away."

Jean bowed his head. "Then I will keep you safe."

And so the three of them crept through the thorns and nettles - it was certainly a lot easier in a less full skirt, and with sleeves that didn't have fancy cuffs to catch on things - and out of the secret side gate that somebody had left open. From there, they emerged into the park, largely deserted at this time, and walked down the paved way into the city streets.

Angelique turned out to have been right: if anyone recognised Cinderella they gave no sign of it. The streets were not so busy, but Cinderella walked without being recognised, although a few heads were turned by their presence, she thought it most likely the incongruity of their appearances - Angelique in rags, Cinderella in rather staid attire, Jean in his guards' officers uniform - that drew the eye. As Angelique led her through the city streets, Cinderella's mind conjured wild and baseless imaginings of what could be waiting for her. She really struggled to think of anything that might draw her into the city, still less anything that would force Angelique to dress like that. And add to the fact that Jean seemed to be as much in the dark as Angelique was...all in all it was very curious, and the more they walked the more Cinderella found that she wanted to know the answer.

Angelique was acting as though it would be a far from pleasant revelation, but it couldn't be that bad, surely?

Although the way that Angelique seemed to grow more oppressed the further they got from the palace might beg to differ.

Angelique led them to a little street in a quiet part of town. It was deserted as they arrived at the mouth of it, peering down the rows of terraced houses, built out of red brick that lined the roadside like guards along a corridor. Angelique brought Cinderella to one particular house, number three, and gestured with one hand towards a green door with a polished brass door handle.

"You should knock," Angelique muttered. "Jean will wait here with me."

"I-"

"It's safe," Angelique said, sounding intensely miserable as she did so. "Please, go on."

Cinderella frowned a little, at Angelique's behaviour, but she walked up the pavement and climbed the two stone steps up to the door. Tentatively, she rapped the brass handle.

There was a pause of mere moments before the door opened.

"Colonel?" Jean murmured.

Colonel Etienne Gerard stood in the doorway, wearing a light blue waistcoat over a white shirt. In one hand he held a cigar, unlit, which he twirled between his fingers as he looked down on Cinderella.

He did not answer Jean. He did not look at him. His eyes were only upon Cinderella. "Your highness," he murmured. "I see that she brought you, as she said she would. And promptly, too."

"I had no choice," Angelique muttered.

"There's always a choice," Colonel Gerard muttered.

Angelique scowled. "How dare you try to make me feel guilty about this! I have-"

"Angelique, please," Cinderella interrupted. "Will somebody please explain to me what's going on?"

Colonel Gerard looked over her head. "You said nothing."

"I thought it was best that she saw," Angelique replied.

Colonel Gerard closed his eyes for a moment. "I see...please, your highness, come inside. I suppose that it can't be avoided now."

He stepped aside, making way for Cinderella to walk into the hall before he shut the door behind her.

Cinderella looked around as she took a few tentative steps into the hallway. The house was modestly but not austerely decorated, with wood panel walls and a willow-patterned vase with yellow and blue flowers springing from it sitting on a table near the door. A portrait of a young woman, lithe and lovely with sharp, elfin features and golden hair tied up in a bun, hung on the wall. Her blue eyes and the slight traces of a close-mouthed smile twinkled out from the ebony frame.

"What is this place?" she murmured.

"This is-" Etienne began.

He was interrupted by a green ball that bounced out of the open doorway of a room to strike the wood panelled wall. There was a patter of feet, and a young boy, very young, ran out into the hallway to grab it.

He stopped, he looked up at Cinderella where she stood at the other end of the hallway and Cinderella let out a gasp as she felt her breath stop in her throat and her stomach turn over with surprise.

Whatever the rumours might have said, this boy was no son of Etienne Gerard.

He was Eugene's.

Everything proclaimed him so to Cinderella's eyes. He had Eugene's hair, his eyes, he had the same shaped ears, and underneath the baby fat still lingering on his face he had the same jaw line and face-shape as Eugene did also. He was the very image in miniature of his father...of Cinderella's husband and her prince.

Cinderella felt her knees grow weak, and her hands tremble. Now she understood: Angelique's reluctance, her refusal to explain, her insistence that Cinderella had to see for herself, it all made sense now. It made too much sense.

So many questions whirled around in her mind, about the child and the house and Colonel Gerard and about Eugene...about Eugene most of all.

And then the little boy began to walk towards her. His expression was curious and unafraid. He walked - it would have almost been as true to say he waddled - down the corridor, with his ball held in his arms, and stared up at Cinderella with wide brown eyes as though she were a giant.

And as he stared, so all of Cinderella's many, many questions were driven from her mind. None of them mattered, right at this moment. All that mattered was the child before her.

Cinderella knelt down on the floor, lowering herself so that she was barely raised above the boy, and as she knelt she smiled. "Hello there. And who are you?"

"Philippe," piped the boy, in a high and juvenile voice.

"Philippe?" Cinderella murmured. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Philippe." She bent down, and kissed him on the forehead. "My name is Cinderella."

He did not reply, but reached up with one hand and tugged at the closest strands of her strawberry hair.

Cinderella giggled. "You're very strong, aren't you?"

Philippe smiled up at her.

An old woman, her hair grey and her face lined, emerged out of the room from which Philippe had lately come. "I thought I heard-" she stopped looking almost as surprised to see Cinderella as Cinderella had been to see Philippe. "You."

Cinderella disentangled her hair from Philippe's grip and climbed to her feet. "Good day, Madame, my name is-"

"I know who you are," the old woman declared, her voice harsh and hostile. Her lip curled into a sneer. "You're the new one. Philippe! Come here!"

"Yes, grandma," Philippe said, as he turned and ran back down the hall to where his grandmother's arms waited to receive him.

"The princess and I will talk in the kitchen," Colonel Gerard said. "Do not disturb us."

The voice of Philippe's grandmother did not display any more affection for him than it had for Cinderella. "Why would I want to?"

She took Philippe back inside, and shut the door so hard that she was almost slamming it.

"This way, highness, please," Colonel Gerard said, as she ushered Cinderella into a cosy kitchen. "Take a seat," he said, gesturing as he spoke towards a small, plain wooden table with a couple of spindly chairs. "Would you like some tea, princess? I'd offer you something stronger but...well, best not to keep it in the house with a child."

"Tea will be fine, thank you," Cinderella murmured as she sat down. "Colonel-"

"Etienne, please," he said, as he boiled the water. "This hardly seems the moment to stand on ceremony."

Cinderella folded her hands in her lap. "Etienne, then."

"I suppose you have a lot of questions."

"I do," she said softly.

"And I will do my best to answer them," Etienne declared. "Now that the secret is out I would hate for you to get the wrong idea. Milk? I'm afraid there's no sugar; it's too expensive for...for either of us."

"Is there any honey?" Cinderella asked.

Etienne half turned towards her. "I...of course, Marinette. Yes, there is."

Neither of them said anything as Etienne finished making the tea, in fact neither spoke until he had placed a plain but steaming cup down on the table in front of Cinderella, and then sat down himself.

Cinderella leaned a little backwards. The chair creaked. "You don't have a son, do you?"

"No," Etienne replied. "Although I allow the world to believe otherwise."

"Because he is Eugene's son?"

"Yes," Etienne said.

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. She had so many questions that it was difficult to know where to begin. So many questions: why the deception, why the secrecy, why...why didn't Eugene tell her?

Her mouth felt very dry. "Who...who is his mother?"

Etienne sighed. His expression was pained. "You must understand that all of this was years ago, long before he knew you. He has been faithful in his marriage vows, please don't think otherwise."

Cinderella nodded. She took a sip of her tea. It scalded her tongue but did nothing about the cold in her stomach. "Please...tell me."

Etienne looked down at the table. He laid his hands upon it, brushing his fingertips against the wood. "Her name was Katherine. She was a dancer."

"A ballerina?" Cinderella asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Etienne held her gaze for a moment. "Yes. That's how they met. She danced Odette in _Swan Lake_ and after the show she was presented to the prince as patron of the company. It wasn't long before they were seeing a lot more of one another."

"Outside, it's her portrait, isn't it?" Cinderella asked, thinking out of the young woman with the golden hair.

"Yes," Etienne said. "It was...Eugene commissioned it. For himself, at first, but...he felt Philippe should have it. Should have...something."

"What was she like?" Cinderella asked.

Etienne sighed wistfully, and leaned back in his chair. "Beautiful. And graceful, too, so very graceful; if you ever saw her dance...kind, compassionate, wise. If...when you first came to the palace, highness, you may recall that I was a little cold towards you. I confess...I wasn't sure that you could fill Katherine's shoes...I wasn't sure that you deserved too."

 _And now?_ Cinderella thought, but did not ask for fear she would not like the answer. "You...did..." she struggled to phrase the question she both wanted and dreaded to ask, "Did he love her?"

Etienne's face was melancholy, though whether for Cinderella, Katherine or himself she could not say. "I think we both did, but he was the one she chose; he was the only one who she loved in return."

Cinderella swallowed. "I...I see."

"Once again, princess, this was all years ago," Etienne said. "It does not touch upon nor tarnish Eugene's love for you. His past love makes his present no less true."

"I know," Cinderella whispered. _But I had thought this was that flower's first bloom for both of us._ "Why...didn't he marry her?"

Etienne hesitated.

"Please," Cinderella urged. "Please, tell me the truth."

"The truth," Etienne murmured. "The truth is that he would have, but she would not. Katherine loved him, but not enough to reorder her whole life around him and his position. She didn't want to turn her back on what she knew and loved and spend her life attending parties, being sneered at for her humble origins..." a smile fleeted across his face. "I suppose you could say that she didn't want to be you, princess.

"They fought about it, more than once in my presence alone. Katherine...she asked him if he would up his future throne and crown to marry her and when Eugene refused she called him a hypocrite for demanding of her what he would not do for her. And then...and then she got with child. His child. Again, Eugene pressed her to marry him, and again she refused to give up her life for all the grief she feared would come with a tiara. He tried to point out that unwed mothers are treated worse, but she would not have it and he...he never could argue with her for very long. In the end he would always let her win. And so it was when they fought over the doctor and the midwife. Eugene wanted to send the royal physician to attend on her when the time came, but Katherine wouldn't have that either. She said it would all come out if he did that and Eugene, as always, yielded." Etienne closed his eyes for a moment. "And so...and so when things turned bad, and the baby got...instead of a knighted physician with years of experience to take care of her there was only some quack who could barely..." his whole body shuddered. "He saved the boy - just about; but Katherine...Katherine was lost."

"Oh, God," Cinderella murmured, although truthfully she should have expected it. "I...I'm so sorry."

Etienne waved away her sympathy. "If...if it sometimes feels as though Eugene is smothering you, or even that he'd like to...remember that the last time he yielded to his love, the last time that he let her have her way...she died in consequence."

Cinderella didn't reply to that. There didn't seem anything she could say in response to it. Instead she said, "So why the lies? Why pretend-"

"That Philippe is my son, and not his?"

"Exactly."

Etienne drank from his cup of tea. "It was a part that I had always played between them, to convince the world that she was my lover, and not his..." he paused for a moment. "Afterwards, it seemed...this is the home of Katherine's mother, the charming woman that you just met, but Eugene wasn't willing to be completely ignorant of how his son was growing up. But he couldn't visit him; can you imagine the prince coming to a place like this, so many tongues would wag, so many questions would be asked. So I come here instead, to visit, to check up, to give his grandmother some money, to bring presents for Christmas and his birthday, to...to play the father."

"Does he know?" Cinderella asked. "Does he know who his father is?"

"No," Etienne said. "He...when he grows up he'll probably think that I am his father, and resent me for not acknowledging him."

"You don't seem too troubled by that."

Etienne chuckled. "So many people already think little of me, what's one more bad opinion for the pile?"

Cinderella shook her head. "I don't understand. You sacrificed your honour, you sacrificed Lucrecia...why didn't you just tell her the truth."

"A secret isn't secret once you start telling people to make your life more convenient," Etienne replied. "I made a promise."

"Why?"

"Because he is my friend, and she was..." Etienne trailed off for a moment. "When my father lost everything we lost _everything_. All his friends turned their backs on us, society poured scorn on our misfortunes, not a single hand was offered to help us. Except one. Eugene stood by me, though he had no reason to. He gave me a commission, he gave me a fighting chance to support my family, he...how could I ever repay kindness like that? What is honour, compared with such a debt as I owe him? Did honour help my family when we needed it? No, Eugene did. Compared to that...this is little enough."

"And Lucrecia?" Cinderella asked. "Was she little enough?"

"Lucrecia...Lucrecia...you will never know how hard it was not to tell Lucrecia the truth," Etienne said. "But what if I had. Even if I told her, so long as the secret held she would still have suffered all the consequences of being involved with a man of my reputation. I'm sorry, truly sorry, that I didn't consider that earlier, but once she made it clear to me...she is better off without me."

"But why does there need to be a secret at all?" Cinderella demanded. "Why does Eugene hide his son like this? Why not-"

"Acknowledge him?" Etienne asked. "Bring him to court, to be raised in the palace?"

"Yes."

"It isn't what his mother would have wanted."

"Do you really think she wanted her son to grow up never knowing his father?"

"As alternative to what?" Etienne demanded. "Growing up with the word 'bastard' hanging around his neck? Having people whisper about him behind their hands wherever he goes, mutter 'illegitimate' as he leaves the room? To be…"

Cinderella frowned. "To be what?"

Etienne's look was half a glare. "Suppose that Eugene had taken him into the palace, and acknowledged him. Suppose that he did that right now, would you love and care for him as much for your own children?"

"Of course I would!" Cinderella exclaimed.

"Of course?" Etienne replied. "After everything that your stepmother did to you and you say of course?"

"Because of what my stepmother did to me I would be the last person to treat a child the same way," Cinderella cried.

Etienne stared at her for a moment. He shook his head. "I…perhaps you wouldn't. Perhaps you really are…I have to say I'm mostly sure that you are…better than that, anyway. But we couldn't be sure that Eugene's wife would be so tender-hearted as you, we had to plan for the worst. We had to…we made the best decisions we could, at the time. We did what we thought was right."

"I'm sure you did," Cinderella murmured. That didn't mean that she agreed with the decisions that they had made, but she did believe that they had made those decisions without malice, and with the best intentions.

But she didn't think that she could agree that they had chosen.

 _Eugene didn't tell me about any of this. I would never have found out if it hadn't been for Lucrecia._

 _He shouldn't have kept this from me, he…he had no right._

"He should have told me," Cinderella said.

"Why?" Etienne demanded. "He's not your son."

"No, but Eugene is my husband," Cinderella replied. "And yet he kept this from me."

"For Philippe's sake," Etienne said. "Not from any desire to hurt you."

"He didn't trust me with his secrets," Cinderella said. "He didn't trust me to know the truth about him."

Etienne said nothing for a moment. He spread his hands out on the table. "Well, now you know the truth, regardless of what Eugene wants. So the questions becomes…what are you going to do?"

* * *

 _Author's Note: I don't usually spoil things in the author's note (I try not to, anyway) but I'm going to break a custom here because I don't want you to get the wrong idea: Marinette is not in cahoots with Lucien, not to rob Cinderella and certainly not to seduce her. When she says that Lucien is a sensitive soul who tries to avoid being a burden to people, that is what she actually believes. Lucien is somewhat based on the young lounge lizards who populate Agatha Christie murder mysteries and the like; these characters have an incredible ability to convince their (usually female) relatives that they are innocent angels just trying to get by._

 _We all have our blind spots, I suppose._

 _All I'm saying is don't write Marinette off or anything like that. Trust her; except where Lucien is concerned, clearly._

 _Cinderella's words writing back to Lucien were chosen on the basis of a rather late revelation I came to about the character: I always thought to myself that he really did care about Cinderella, but was too selfish to put her feelings ahead of his own desire; it was only lately that I realised that, that being the case, he can't really care about her at all (or not that much) because he's actively ignoring what she wants; and Cinderella's letter reflects that._

 _On this chapter's revelation, a revelation so shocking that two out of the three people who regularly review this story cottoned on in advance: this was always something that I planned for. Way back in Sunset in a Gilded Frame, I had planned to reveal that Eugene had a son by another woman, I've been waiting literally years to get to this. What I hadn't settled on until far more recently was how Katherine died, I originally wanted to avoid childbirth as being too clichéd; however, what changed my mind was the opportunity to justify some of Eugene's more irritating behaviour towards Cinderella: having lost Katherine to, as he sees it, letting her have her own way he is now tempted to go to the other extreme._

 _Various ending points for this chapter were considered, at one point it was going to end on the reveal that Philippe is Eugene's son, at another point it was going to go on longer to when Cinderella confronts Eugene with her new knowledge. That will now wait until next chapter, as I haven't quite worked out all the details of how she'll react in the short term._

 _Originally there was going to be more Angelique as she discovered the truth first, but I really wanted you to find out with Cinderella, and I decided that it would have been too awkward to have written around the big secret, had her not think about etc until Cinderella got to the house._


	22. Recriminations

Recriminations

The heels of Cinderella's boots clicked on the stone floor as she made her way down the corridor.

They were the loudest sound that she could hear. Around her, she could occasionally hear the servants speaking to one another in low murmurs they passed by, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. She wasn't really paying attention.

Her breast heaved with emotion as she made her way towards Eugene. Her breaths came deeply, her chest rose and fell. Out of the corners of her eye Cinderella could catch glimpses of the occasional servant glancing at her, and she wondered if she looked as distressed as she felt.

She was all alone. She had dismissed Jean and Angelique once she returned to the palace, she didn't need – or didn't want, anyway – anyone else to be with her when she spoke to Eugene about this.

And so the only sound as she walked swiftly and inexorably towards him was the sound of her own footsteps echoing on the floor.

 _How could he keep something like this from me? How could he keep a secret this large?_

 _Doesn't he think I have a right to know?_

 _Doesn't he trust me at all?_

These questions echoed through Cinderella's mind as she made her way towards the library where, so she had been informed, Eugene was closeted. The same questions that had been bouncing off the walls of Cinderella's head ever since Etienne Gerard had concluded his account.

 _He is my husband and I am his wife, I shouldn't have to find out about this because Lucrecria needed a shoulder to cry on, or because Angelique was curious and able to find out the truth, or…or any reason other than Eugene telling me._

 _I'm his wife, how can he treat me like this?_

True, she had hesitated at first to share some of her secrets with Eugene, fearing how he might react to some of her more…unusual revelations. But she had shared them all, by the time their honeymoon was over, because she loved him and she trusted him to keep her secrets without having her declared mad or something. She had shared her heart with him because she had thought that he was made of gold…but it seemed the golden statue had possessed feet of clay all along.

She hoped, with all her heart she hoped, that the gold was more than gilded lead. She hoped that she could explain himself, and his behaviour. She hoped so…because she loved him.

And she hoped that she wasn't completely foolish for doing so.

 _What we shared is real. What we feel for each other is real._

 _What you feel for him is real, but how can you tell what he truly feels for you? He lied to you._

 _And he saved my life._

 _Jean has saved your life more times than Eugene has, it doesn't mean that he's given you his heart._

 _That's different. Eugene and I…_

 _Eugene and I…what?_

Cinderella closed her eyes for a moment. She had trusted him and he had…she felt as though he had betrayed her trust, even if he had not betrayed her.

She made her way into the library, a room as large on its own as some houses, with bookshelves climbing up towards the ceiling, accessible at the top only by ladders. Ancient leatherbound volumes surrounded her, pressing close on both sides in rows before the library opened up into a larger and more open reading space, airy and light with a half dozen windows allowing in the illumination.

There were no servants, which was good. Cinderella didn't want anyone else to hear this.

She found Eugene in the reading space. He was sitting with his back to her, writing something at a desk. The library was carpeted, which muffled the sound of Cinderella's footsteps compared to the stone floor of the corridors. He had not heard her come in.

She coughed demurely to get his attention. She didn't want to be angry with him, although anger was certainly one of the emotions swirling within her breast along with pain and disappointment. But she didn't want to be angry with him. She wanted…she wanted him to be able to explain everything; she wanted him to say something that would make it all better.

She had no idea what he could say that would accomplish such a miracle but she wanted to hear it very much.

Eugene twisted round in his chair, and when he saw her his face lit up and he smiled and, God, he had such a lovely smile. It always lightened Cinderella's heart to see it…but now the clouds that hung about her mood were too great to be alleviated by such a thing.

"Cinderella, what a pleasant surprise," Eugene murmured. He frowned, ever so slightly. "Are you alright, darling? You look a little pale."

"I need to speak to you," Cinderella said, and her throat was so tight with nervousness that she struggled to raise her voice above a whisper.

Eugene turned his chair around so that he was facing. "Alright. What shall we talk about?"

It was all Cinderella could do to get any words out at all. "About your son."

Eugene's face froze. He stared at her in mute astonishment for a moment. "I…" he laughed nervously. "I'm afraid I've no idea what you're talking about."

He was a terrible liar, Cinderella thought. Almost as bad as she was herself.

"His name is Philippe," she whispered. "He lives with his grandmother in a house on St Joan Avenue."

Eugene's jaw tightened. His face twisted into a scowl. He rose slowly and deliberately to his feet, clasping his hands together behind his back.

"How do you know about this?" he demanded, his voice as sharp as a sword. "How did you find out?"

He sounded… _accusatory_. He sounded as though _he_ were angry at _her_. Shock – and outrage at his barefaced effrontery – loosened Cinderella's throat and let her voice rise. "Why does it matter how I found out? When-"

"Because I want to know how many people know?" Eugene snapped.

"Don't raise your voice at me like that as though I'm the one who has done something wrong," Cinderella cried.

"Haven't you?"

Cinderella gasped. "I'm not the one who lied-"

"I didn't lie," Eugene declared. His voice softened for a moment. "I have never lied to you."

"Perhaps not," Cinderella said, and her own voice softened a little in response. "But you didn't tell me any of this, you kept it all from me."

"I have a right to the privacy of my past," Eugene said.

"Yes, you do, of course you do," Cinderella replied. "But this isn't just your past but your present, too, and I shouldn't have to find out about it because…" she stumbled to a brief halt. Considering how upset Eugene had gotten over his secret coming out it probably wasn't a good idea to reveal right now exactly how that had happened. He might punish Angelique for her perceived transgression, and the other girl didn't deserve anything like that. "I should have found out from you, telling me."

"So I am to blame for the method of your finding out something which I intended for you to never find out?" Eugene asked. "I am to blame for the fact that you couldn't mind your own business but had to pry into mine?"

"I am your wife!" Cinderella shouted. "I am your wife as you are my husband. My business is yours and yours is mine. Our lives are intertwined in all their facets. Aren't they?"

Eugene looked as though it were his turn to be shocked and appalled by the effrontery that Cinderella was displaying. "You say that? You stand there and attack me for not being open and honest enough? You kept your secrets from me, you held things back and asked me not to press you on them and out of love and affection I accepted that. I knew that you had secrets and I decided that I didn't care. Because I love you regardless of your secrets. Why can't you extend me the same courtesy?"

"Yes, I kept things back from you at first," Cinderella said. "But I told you that. When you asked me questions that I didn't want to answer I didn't lie. I didn't make up stories, although I could have tried. I told you that I wasn't ready to tell you the truth yet, and I asked you to trust me, and to be patient with me. And you were, and I thank you for that and I love for that...but you could have done as I did. You could have told me that there were things about yourself that you wanted to keep private, that you had to keep private. You could have told me that you weren't ready to show me all of yourself yet, and asked me not to pry but to give you patience, just as I asked for the same from you. And I would have, I would have done anything that you asked because I trusted you. Even if I had found out the truth some other way I would have pretended that I didn't know for your sake because I trusted you to tell me when you ready, as I did. But you didn't trust me enough even to let me know that you had something to conceal. You didn't trust me enough to tell me anything."

"Cinderella-"

"Every time I ask you to unburden yourself to me, or to share the things that I can see are troubling you with me, you always refuse," Cinderella said. "Do you not trust me at all, with anything?"

"I love you," Eugene said, which was both not an answer and all the answer that Cinderella needed to confirm her fears.

"How can there be love without trust?" Cinderella demanded. "How can you say that you love me when you wanted to keep whole swathes of yourself hidden from me forever? What am I to you?"

"Oh, for God's sake, why can't you accept that this is not about your or me either?" Eugene shouted. "This is about the boy and what is best for him!"

"The boy has a name, Philippe," Cinderella said sharply. "Can't you even bring yourself to say it?"

Eugene snorted angrily, and turned away from her rather than reply.

"The way that you've treated him-" Cinderella began.

"I've done the best I can, he wants for nothing," Eugene snapped.

"He wants for a father's love," Cinderella replied. "He wants for a family. You keep him at arms' length. If Etienne Gerard had convinced even Philippe himself that he were his father, if he were raising him as his own son, then I might understand but this...to send him to inspect your boy and report back to you...that is cruel, Eugene. Can't you see how hard your being to him? Your own son!"

"I've done the best I can," Eugene repeated.

"I very much hope that you don't really believe that," Cinderella said softly.

"I don't need you to approve of my decisions!"

"Then what do you need?" Cinderella cried. "Or what do you want? You don't need my approval, you don't want my help, you don't trust me. What does it mean, then, that I am your wife? Why am I even here?"

"I'm starting to wonder that myself," Eugene snapped.

Cinderella gasped. _So it's true. Theodora was right all along. I'm just a pretty doll, to hang on his arm and share his bed. I feared...I hoped...why did I have to ask?_

Eugene's expression of anger softened and turned like a sky clearing after a storm into one of horror. "Cinderella, I didn't mean to-"

Cinderella stopped him with a raised hand and a rapid shake of her head. "That's enough, I...I've heard enough."

"Cinderella-" Eugene began, taking a step towards her.

"Don't come any closer," she cried, her voice high pitched as tears began to well up in her eyes. Inside she felt only emptiness, but it seemed there was sufficient water in her still that she had plenty to expel.

"Cinderella, you can't possibly believe that I would hurt you."

"You already have!" Cinderella cried. "I thought that too, I thought...I thought that I was safe with you, that you would never hurt me...but you did. You have, and...and I can't even look at you, I'm sorry."

Cinderella turned, heedless of Eugene calling her name, and fled headlong away from him as the rising tears clouded her eyes.

Cinderella fumbled her way, half blinded by tears, through the corridors. She didn't hear the servants offering her assistance, so lost was she in her own feelings as she fell into the dark pit that she felt had opened up beneath her feet.

She stumbled into a sitting room, and there collapsed on a green settee with her head in her arms, sobbing into her pillow.

Cinderella didn't know how long she lay there, sobbing. She didn't know how many tears she shed, although the pillow soon felt damp or even wet beneath her face.

 _I thought that he loved me just as much as I loved him. Was I really so mistaken? Was I such a fool?_

 _I'm starting to wonder that myself._

 _I've heard enough._

Cinderella lost track of how long she lay upon that settee; it could have been mere moments, it could have been hours, she could not have said. But she lay there, weeping out her hopes and dreams, until she heard a voice addressing.

"Why does the princess weep, when she has so many reasons to smile instead?"

She knew that voice. She knew those words; he had spoken much their like before. "L-Lucien?" Cinderella stammered, as she looked up and wiped some of the tears out of her eyes.

She hadn't heard him come in, but then she rarely did. He seemed to appear by magic, like a ghost or a guardian angel. But there he was, sitting on the velvet-covered arm of the settee, looking down on her, his expression grave with sympathy.

"Lucien," she repeated. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you weeping," Lucien said softly, ever so softly. "And I came."

 _Is that a rebuke? Oh, how wretched I must look in his eyes,_ Cinderella thought. She wiped at her tear-stained cheek with one hand. "I'm sorry that you have to see me like this. What can I do for you, do you need some more-"

"No," Lucien said, firmly but gently at the same time. "No, Cinderella, I am not here for that. I am here for you. Only for you." He offered her the handkerchief out of his breast pocket.

"Thank you," Cinderella said, as she accepted it and began to wipe at her eyes.

"Why do you weep?" Lucien asked again. "Why do you weep when tears so ill become your face?"

"I'm afraid that I have cause to weep regardless," Cinderella replied.

"Why?"

"Oh," Cinderella murmured, as she rose to her feet. "I'm sure you wouldn't be interested in my troubles."

Lucien, too, rose from his seat on the arm of the settee. "In this moment there is nothing that interests me more." He put his hands upon her arms, just below her shoulders. "If you will but tell me, then whatever I can do to lighten your burden, I will."

Cinderella looked down, at the floor between them. "It...it's Eugene."

"What has he done? Has he hurt you?"

Cinderella looked up into his face. "Yes," she confessed.

Lucien's expression hardened. "Where?"

It took Cinderella a moment to realise the misunderstanding that she had created. "Oh, no, it's nothing like that, he...he's done nothing like that, but..."

"Then the hurt is in your heart?"

"He doesn't trust me," Cinderella moaned. "He has kept secrets from me, without even trusting me to know that he had secrets. I have let him see all of me, but...it's as if he barely wants me to see him at all. I'm afraid...I'm afraid he never meant to share his life with me. I'm afraid...I'm afraid...I'm afraid he never loved me as I love him."

Lucien was silent for a moment. "He doesn't deserve you."

Cinderella snorted, and smiled self-deprecatingly as she shook her head and closed. "I think if I were to get what I deserve I'd be married to the under-footman rather than the prince."

"You are a treasure beyond price or compare," Lucien insisted, his voice unyieldingly firm. "And if he doesn't realise that it only proves he is not worthy of you." He hesitated for a moment. "My offer yet stands, you know."

"Your offer?"

"What I said to you, outside the palace, on the day you charmed the mob," Lucien said. "If...if you cannot stay here...if you need somewhere to go...you may come with me. I will take care of you, and treat you like the jewel you are, I promise."

Cinderella smiled. "You're such a good friend to me, Lucien. A better friend than I deserve, whatever you may say. But I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I still love him," Cinderella said. "And so, regardless of how I feel now, I can't just leave him; I can't just walk away."

"Even though he doesn't care for you at all?" Lucien asked in evident disbelief.

"I don't know that yet," Cinderella said. _I'm only afraid of it._ "And besides, even if he doesn't feel as I do, even if it wasn't true, in these few weeks he's still made me happier than I ever dreamed I could be. So if this is time to wake up...at least it was a lovely dream."

Lucien's grip upon her arms tightened ever so slight, "Cinderella," he murmured. "You are..."

He said nothing else. He just stared down into her eyes, and in his own blue orbs there was something almost like...almost like a hunger. The silence stretched out between them. Lucien stared at her. His chest rose and fell, he seemed to almost tremble as though he were nerving himself for something, but Cinderella could not imagine what.

"Lucien?" she asked.

He let go of her, and abruptly turned away. "I have to go," he said.

"Are you sure?" Cinderella asked. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Lucien said sharply. "No, you...you've done wrong. I just...I'm sorry, but I cannot stay."

"Please, don't apologise," Cinderella said. "If you have somewhere to go or something to do then I mustn't keep you. Thank you."

Lucien looked at her. "For what?"

"For helping," Cinderella said. "I feel...better now."

"Truly?"

"Well, I'm still upset," Cinderella confessed. "And I still feel...hurt. But I feel more certain now, thanks to you. I'm not crying any more."

"But you will stay," Lucien said. "You will not come with me."

"No," Cinderella murmured. "Although..."

"Although..."

"I hope that I misunderstood, or that Eugene...that he didn't mean what he could have meant," Cinderella said. "But if he did, if he...if he is tired of me, if he...I suppose I might yet need to stay with you for a little while."

Lucien's whole face brightened. "Very well. I won't give away your room just yet." He bowed his head to her, and took his leave. She heard him go, as she had not heard him come.

Cinderella remained for a moment, gathering up her composure. She was not so much better as she had perhaps allowed Lucien to believe. She was not crying, but...but she felt as though she might start again if given the right provocation.

She waited a few moments more before she left the sitting and attracted the attention of a nearby made.

"Excuse me, but could you please help me to my room?" Cinderella asked, not being entirely sure of where she was at the moment. She decided to go to her room because, although she hoped that she had misunderstood Eugene and that he would give him a chance to explain himself, she did not particularly desire to speak to him at the moment.

For now, she wanted to be alone.

* * *

At a low public house, as the shadows gathered in the mounting gloom of evening, Anatole de Montcalm listened with frank astonishment writ plain upon his face to Lucien's account of his latest adventure in the palace.

"So...you just left?" Anatole demanded. "My God, man, the prize was in your grasp! It was within reach and you left?"

Lucien drank eagerly from his glass of cognac. "What ought I to have done?"

"Kissed her!" Anatole exclaimed. "Confessed your feelings, anything."

"She was in tears!" Lucien exclaimed.

"Even better," Anatole said lightly. "So vulnerable as she sounds even your thin charms might have had some effect on her."

Lucien gasped. "Oho! In the first place, my charms are not in the least thin; my charms are charming. In the second place, that would have been rather vile and disgusting of me, don't you think?"

"Because sneaking into her bedroom to leave love notes is such chivalrous conduct," Anatole muttered. "In any case, when did you suddenly acquire a gentlemanly bone in your body?"

Lucien drew himself up with an affronted expression. "I'll have you know that I am and always have been a gentleman."

Anatole did not conceal his guffaw of laughter. "You, Lucien Gerard, are such a man as would seduce a nun with vows of matrimony and then leave her soiled after a night of passion; you are such a man as would dance naked through the strees if it would win you a purse of gold for one more night of drinking and gambling. A gentleman? Hah, as if."

Lucien shrugged. "Everything you say is true, or was true anyway; but..."

Anatole's eyebrows rose. "But?"

"Cinderella is different," Lucien declared. "Cinderella deserves better and in so deserving she encourages me to be better. Once I have her I will completely reform my nature for the better, I swear it: I will put aside all vulgar acquaintance, I will work hard to give her all the luxuries that are her due, I will turn my back completely upon gambling and strong drink." He drained his glass of cognac and set it down upon the bar. "Here, landlord, give me another!" He returned his attention to Anatole. "She is an angel, and she's going to ssve my soul."

Anatole fought to keep all traces of laughter off his face and firmly on the inside where no one could see. It was almost precious, how the little fool clearly believed all of this tripe that he was spewing. Not that he would actually do any of it. It was all fine words, wholly lacking in any action behind them. If Princess Cinderella was ever fool enough to run off with him then she would soon find out what kind of a man Lucien Gerard really was: a spoiled, selfish boy who breezed through life in the insouciant knowledge that there would always be, just as there always had been, somebody else to clean up after him. And that would be Cinderella's lot in life if she allowed herself into his clutches.

 _Which would please Serena no end, of course._

Still, he could not keep himself from asking, "While she's saving your soul what are you going to be doing?"

"Setting her free," Lucien said, with perfect earnestness. "That palace is a cage, but with me...she'll finally be able to spread her wings and soar."

* * *

 _Author's Note: This is, I think, the shortest chapter in the story so far; it was at one point going to be shorter still and end with Cinderella fleeing the argument in tears, before I decided that the next scene flowed on naturally and ought to be in the same chapter._

 _Brevity is probably not going to become a habit, but I wanted to keep the argument separate from what comes next, it's own distinct thing._

 _Speaking of which, I know the argument is short but if I'd have tried to draw it out I probably would have ended up having Cinderella and Eugene repeat themselves._

 _I always wanted Eugene to be defensive, and to maintain the rightness of his actions in the face of Cinderella's accusations, but I hope I haven't made him too antagonistic that you don't want Cinderella to stick around him any more. I hope I haven't done that, but only you, the readers, can say for certain._


	23. Revelation

Revelation

Within the span of two days it was well known within the whole palace that the prince and princess had fallen out of that perfect love that had seemed to bind the two of them together since he had first put the question of marriage to her. Though none spoke openly of it, nevertheless the whispers flew around the palace so swiftly that within two days it seemed that everybody knew about it nonetheless.

Within a third day, but one day after the news became widespread, it seemed also that the palace had divided into two sides, those who took the part of the prince and those who took the part of the princess.

By far the majority were on the side of the princess. In part this was because, though none could be certain of the cause of the quarrel between them, most were certain that the prince had offered some insult to his lady, and many said that they had seen the princess crying afterward, and it was well known that she had retired to her chambers in a slough of despond at her mistreatment and could not bear to face her husband again. Such mistreatment of a lady fair and delicate, possessed of a gentle nature and a graceful demeanour, whose kindness to all made her an inspiration then to all, roused all true-hearted men to a chivalrous vein, and drove all honest women to a righteous anger on her behalf against the perpetrator of such beastliness.

Or so, at least, it seemed to Jean Taurillion. Certainly he had no doubt whatsoever that his highness was decidedly in the wrong in this matter between the prince and princess. Though he had not entered the house, as they had waited outside Angelique had told him what she had seen when she had followed Colonel Gerard to that place, what had prompted her to go get Cinderella and bring her there with all haste.

 _I couldn't keep it a secret_ , Angelique had told him. _Not when it was so plain to see whose son he really was. I…she asked me not to lie to her, and…I just thought that she deserved to know._

Cinderella had been wronged, and the wrong was made all the more grievous for being inflicted upon one who so little deserved to be wronged. It was not to be borne, not by a gentleman.

And so Jean fastened up the brass buttons of his dress jacket – he had polished them last night – and buckled on his sword-belt, and pulled a pair of immaculate white cotton gloves on over his hands. He picked up his plumed shako; he had polished the badge last night at the same time as the buttons.

Angelique scowled, and folded her arms as she looked at him. "You know that you're being a complete idiot?"

Jean glanced at her, wearing a pink dress with a maroon bodice. He grinned at her. "You look very pretty today."

Angelique's eyes widened. A slight blush rose to her cheeks. "Don't change the subject!"

Jean turned to face her, a slight frown disfiguring his face. "I have waited three days for someone else to do the honourable thing; it seems that I must do what must be done."

"What must be done?" Angelique repeated. "Nobody's done it yet because everyone else realises that it's ridiculous, he's the prince."

"And yet he has behaved with a most unprincely cruelty towards a gentle lady," Jean said. "One whom I hold in high esteem. Surely you can't be on his side, knowing what we know."

"Of course not," Angelique snapped. "I'd like nothing better than to punch him on the nose for the way he's behaved, but I won't. Because he's the prince and he'd have me locked up. God knows what he'll do to you."

"I'm not going to just walk up to him and punch him," Jean replied. "This is how gentlemen settle their quarrels."

"Are you sure about that or is it just something that you think you know?" Angelique said.

"I…I'm fairly certain that this is how gentlemen settle their quarrels," Jean replied.

Angelique shook her head. "I noticed that you haven't actually spoken to Cinderella about this." She folded her arms. "A more cynical person than myself might suspect that that is because you know that she wouldn't approve."

Jean chuckled. "A more cynical person than you, Angelique?"

"Hey, I am not cynical, I'm realistic and pragmatic," Angelique declared. "And stop trying to change the subject, Cinderella hasn't asked for this-"

"She doesn't need to ask."

"And you know she wouldn't want it either."

"Are you going to tell her?"

Angelique glanced away from him. "No. Not if you haven't. But I wish you wouldn't do this. What if he kills you? What if you kill him?"

"I won't," Jean said dismissively. "And he won't either. Things won't go that far. I just want to prove to the world that he was wrong, and give him nowhere to hide in…ambiguity, is that the word?"

"Maybe."

"Most people think that the princess was wronged, but nobody is sure," Jean said. "I'm going to prove it."

Angelique's eyebrows rose. "How is this supposed to prove anything?"

"Because whoever has right on their side will win," Jean said.

Angelique's brow furrowed. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't," Jean said lightly. "Because I'm going to win."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I've got right on my side," Jean said, with perfect confidence and just as perfect sincerity.

Angelique stared at him for a moment. "I can't stop you, can I?"

"No," Jean said softly.

Angelique got out of the doorway that she had, hitherto, been blocking. "Go on then. But take care."

"I will," Jean promised.

Angelique pursed her lips. "Hey, Jean…do you…do you think that I did the right thing, telling Cinderella about…you know."

"What else could you have done?" Jean asked.

"I could have done what Gerard asked me to and kept my mouth shut about it," Angelique said.

"That would have been the same as lying to her, wouldn't it?"

"Probably, but…you know how miserable she is, how upset. I could have spared her that, but I didn't. It feels…it felt like the right thing at the time, but now…now I just feel selfish, upsetting her so much just so that I didn't have to carry a secret round on my conscience."

Jean reached out, and put one hand on Angelique's shoulder. The fabric of her rose red colour felt slippery beneath his fingertips. "Angelique…whenever Cinderella found out about this it would have hurt, all keeping it to yourself would have done would be to make her upset with you."

"Because that's what I was thinking, wasn't it?" Angelique snapped. "Because Angelique always thinks of herself first, doesn't she?"

Jean stepped backwards, startled by her unexpected anger. "I…Angelique I didn't say that. I would never say that. You…you're…I don't think you're selfish at all. You're one of the most selfless people I know."

Angelique looked at him as though he was mad. "Seriously?"

"You put up with me, don't you?" Jean asked, with a smile on his face. "Nobody forced you to, nobody asked you to…I've never given you much of a reason to stick with me. But you did it anyway, and…and I don't know what I would have done without you."

Angelique snorted. "Idiot." She looked down at the ground. "But…thanks all the same."

"Cinderella…" Jean began. He hesitated for a moment. "I'm sure that she'll be glad she found out."

"You haven't seen her lately, have you?"

"Is it so bad?"

"Considering that somebody trying to kill her couldn't seem to get her down for longer than an afternoon…yes, it's bad."

"That isn't your doing," Jean said.

"No," Angelique agreed. "But I caused it."

"You had no choice."

Angelique looked up at him. "I wish I could believe you." She shook her head. "I'm keeping you, and I should get back to the princess. I…be careful; and good luck."

Jean nodded. "Don't worry about me, Angelique. I'm going to win."

Jean strode through the corridors of the palace at a brisk march, holding onto his sword with one hand so that it didn't bang against his leg. His boots made a thudding sound as he marched onwards in search of His Highness.

He found him in a sitting room, looking visibly harassed with his hair dishevelled and his eyes marked by dark bags beneath them. However, Jean's sympathies were too greatly with the princess for him to spare much fellow feeling for the prince, and his main concern was that His Highness was not alone: Colonel Gerard was with him, and he too had gone down in Jean's esteem, but not nearly so much as his master the prince. What he had done…it had hurt no one, except himself if what Angelique said was true, who had not foremost been hurt by the prince's decision to deceive.

He was, however, glad that there was some witness to this in case Prince Eugene was minded to deny it.

Jean hoped that he would not have done, but…he would have hoped that the Crown Prince of Armorique would not have insulted and abused his wife in such a fashion either.

Prince Eugene caught sight of him as Jean marched into the room and stood to attention beside his chair. "Yes? Do you want something? Is there…does Cinderella communicate through messengers with me now? Is she too proud to speak with me herself?"

 _The audacity to speak of her as though she has done you wrong._ "Would your highness mind standing up for a moment?" Jean asked tersely.

Prince Eugene's eyes narrowed. "What's this about?"

"Just stand up!" Jean snapped. "Your Highness."

Both Prince Eugene and Colonel Gerard wore faces clouded with suspicion as Prince Eugene slowly rose up out of his seat. He had about six inches of height on Jean, and from that greater height looked down upon him. "Now, I am stood up. What do you want?"

Jean pulled off the white glove from his left hand, and in a brisk and fluid motion slapped His Highness across the face with it.

His Highness barely flinched from the blow, and Jean deemed that the outraged look upon his face afterward had far more to do with the act itself than with any pain the blow had caused to him.

"Have you gone mad?" he demanded.

Jean felt that it would be beneath his dignity in this matter to respond to such a question, even from the crown prince. Rather, he said, "I will meet you how you dare, when you dare and with what you dare. Do me right or I will protest your cowardice. You have wounded a sweet lady, and her sorrow shall fall heavily upon you. What say you?"

Eugene let out a kind of exhaled breath that was not quite a snort or a gasp but had a little or more both within it. "You are mad. A challenge? From you?"

"I am a man, as you are," Jean declared in a voice as cold as winter's kiss. "And of late your highness has displayed so little gentleness that it is no hard thing to equal it."

"I have done no wrong!" Eugene exclaimed. "If Cinderella has been wounded it is by cutting herself with those daggers which she clumsily thought to wield at me-"

"Enough!" Jean snapped. "Speak it with sword or gun, I do not care to hear another word. Shall I hear from you or shall all know you for a coward?"

Prince Eugene's jaw tightened. "Very well. My wife is fond of you, and you have done good service in her defence; therefore I choose swords, that you will not die of a single pistol-shot."

"I thank your highness for the courtesy," Jean murmured. "Shall we meet at noon?"

"If you like," Prince Eugene replied. "Upon the fencing yard within the palace walls; there is no need to range further."

"Very well," Jean said. He bowed his head. "Until then, your highness."

"Until then," Eugene growled.

Jean bowed his head once more, and took his leave.

* * *

Etienne and Eugene watched the door close behind Jean Taurillion.

"Can you believe that?" Eugene demanded, and Etienne couldn't help but detect a twinge of petulance in his voice as he demanded. "Can you honestly believe that that happened?"

"Somewhat impertinent, I must admit," Etienne observed. "Usually a fellow would wait until he reaches captain before he thinks about challenging the Crown Prince to a duel."

Eugene folded his arms. "Do I detect a certain sense from you that you are not entirely on my side?"

"Frankly, I think you should be grateful that I'm even somewhat on your side."

"Oho!" Eugene gasped. "Oho, et tu brute indeed! After all I've done for you-"

"I'm not ungrateful, as you well know, but-"

"And considering that this is all your fault anyway-"

"Oh, sweet Jesus!" Etienne snapped. "Yes, I don't know where I'd be right now without your help. I don't know where my family would be without your help. That's why, if you remember, I agreed to let the whole world think that your son was mine. That's why I agreed to sacrifice my reputation for the sake of yours. That is why, thank you very much, I threw away the first good thing to happen to me in years and you're bloody welcome by the way! But there is no way that I am going to stand here and let you put all the blame for this on me!"

Eugene looked shocked. Not surprising, Etienne had never spoken to him like this before. But by God…it had been bad enough walking way from Lucrecia, after he'd done it he'd wanted to…he hadn't been able to go home for fear that he'd fly off the handle at his mother he'd been so angry at himself for doing such a stupid thing, and at Eugene for putting him in the position where he felt that he had to. He'd had to go riding until he calmed down. And now…now for Eugene to suggest that if he had just kept their secret better everything would still be coming up roses between him and Cinderella it was…it was almost more than he could stand to be perfectly honest.

"Etienne," Eugene murmured. "I…" His mouth twisted in stubborn defiance. "I've done nothing wrong, I've said nothing wrong-"

"I suspect that you don't actually believe that."

"I've done nothing wrong," Eugene repeated, thereby revealing that he had said something wrong. "But I can't apologise for what I've said without apologising for what I've done and I will not do."

Etienne frowned. He said nothing for a moment, but rather turned away from Eugene and walked to the window. He leaned on the wooden frame with one hand, letting the sunlight fall on his face as he took a cigar out of his pocket and played with it between the fingers of his free hand. "You know, it occurs to me that you are considerably more honest with me than you are with your wife. It further occurs to me that, that being the case, she might have a right to wonder…"

"To wonder what?" Eugene demanded.

"Just how deep and how genuine your devotion to her really runs."

"I love her," Eugene cried. "I'm not complete without her-"

"Words, words," Etienne said loudly, turning back to look at him. "You put a ring on her finger and then you put her on the shelf like a glass figurine."

"That's unfair!"

"You didn't tell her about Frederica of Normandie did you?"

"No, of course not-"

"Why not?"

"Because as long as she's careful and protected it doesn't matter exactly who it is directing the attacks."

"She's the one whose life is in danger, why shouldn't she know who's behind it?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Because you know and you haven't told her. Why not?"

"Because…because…"

"You didn't tell her about Philippe either, but I know why you didn't say anything about him."

"It's because I'm looking after his-"

"No, it isn't," Etienne said flatly.

Eugene scowled. "What makes you so sure?"

"What's his name?" Etienne demanded.

Eugene stared at him, and said nothing.

"God, you can't even say it, can you?"

"He killed his mother!" Eugene snapped. "He killed his mother and I…and I let him, God save me I…I let him because I wasn't strong enough, I wasn't firm enough, I gave in to whatever she wanted because I thought that was making her happy and together we killed her! I won't make the same mistake with Cinderella!"

"No, you're just making all new ones," Etienne muttered.

"This isn't funny!"

"No, it isn't," Etienne said flatly. "Your wife is slipping away from you because you're too proud and, frankly, too big-headed to stop putting the weight of the whole world on your shoulders. Katherine died because she had most rotten luck in the world, but she wasn't killed by a newborn baby and she certainly wasn't killed by you and she couldn't have been saved if only you'd been more willing to beat your chest and yell at her! She knew her own mind, she made her own choices. Yes, sometimes they were stupid choices and some of them contributed to…some of them are why we…but they were hers, and you don't get to take them away from her so that you can wallow in self-pity about it, you selfish little…" He sighed. "Oh, what am I doing? Listen to me, or don't…who am I to give you advice. I ruined my chance beyond…beyond…" He started to walk towards the door. "Excuse me."

"Where are you going?" Eugene demanded.

"I'm going to start taking my own advice," Etienne said.

"Wait, Etienne!" Eugene called.

Etienne paused.

"Will you be the marshal at my duel at noon?"

Etienne snorted. "Yes, I'll be there. With luck, my business won't take me that long."

He left the palace, walking briskly – though he slowed his pace just a little once he realised that he was liable to walk up a sweat if he kept on almost running as he was doing – out of the palace and into the streets of the city. He made his way through the crowds that were thronging the roads, feeling a mixture of anticipation and nerves mingling in his breast. There was the risk that she would say no…in many ways he deserved to be refused. But he had to try, after what he had said to Eugene…if he did not try then he would be forced to wonder for the rest of his life what might have happened if he had.

He paused outside of Lucrecia's Boutique, his eyes lingering on the name above the door. He stood there for several moments like a living statue busking for pennies, forcing people to walk around with him undisguised scowls of irritation at his hogging of the pavement. He stood, he stared, and then he turned away. As much as the place called to him, as much as it seemed to draw him in, he couldn't go to her yet. Not empty-handed.

He had to prove he was in earnest somehow, after all.

And so Etienne continued walking. He had calculated the value of the month's bills in his head, and together with putting some money aside for any emergency that might arise he had worked out that he had some forty pounds to play with. Not enough for any but the most meagre offering, and he would not disgrace her with that. Which meant…which meant unfortunately that he would have to call upon his brother and ask him to repay some of the stream of loans he had got out of Etienne over the years.

He found Lucien in the Cock and Bull, one of the less salubrious public houses in the city, asleep at half-past nine, stretched out on a bed in one of the dark and dingy upstairs rooms with his shirt half-open and his trousers on. Etienne supposed that he should be grateful that Lucien wasn't sharing the bed with anyone else, it would have made this very awkward.

Etienne knelt down and tapped his little brother on the face until he started to stir into wakefulness.

"Hmm, what…Etienne?"

"Morning," Etienne said dryly. "A long night, I take it?"

"Ooh, my head," Lucien groaned. "You are a very cruel man to wake me so before my time."

"How much money did you lose?"

"Lose?" Lucien repeated. "I'll have you know I had some tremendous luck last night. Cleaned out the other fellows. I'll admit that I was down to nothing at first but then…she gave me this bracelet you see, and when I wagered it my luck turned clean around. It's a sign, I'm sure of it, that she and I-"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure it is," Etienne muttered. "So you've still got money is what you're saying?"

"I am flush with wealth at the moment, yes," Lucien said. He sat up in bed for a moment, then groaned and flopped back down onto the mattress again, covering his eyes with his hands. "Oh, my head."

"I'm a little surprised that you slept alone, in the circumstances."

Lucien uncovered his eyes. "I am a one woman man, brother. She just hasn't realised that yet."

Etienne didn't know who this mysterious 'she' was and he didn't really care, though he was supposed it was a good thing that Lucien seemed to be putting aside slatterns for the time being. _Perhaps Princess Cinderella is having a good influence on his character, who would have imagined? Now if only she could stop him from gambling and persuade him to get a job._

Lucien groaned, but more softly this time. "Anyway, what brings you here, brother mine? You don't usually call on me this early. Or ever, if you can avoid it."

Etienne took a deep breath. "I…I need some money."

Lucien's eyes boggled. He smirked in such a manner as made Etienne want to smack him, and he kept on smirking until he had risen out of bed and too his feet, at which point he very nearly collapsed and had to grab the wall for support.

"You want some money, from me?" Lucien asked. He let out a little titter of a laugh.

"I think it's the least you can do after all the times you've borrowed from me," Etienne said coldly.

"Perhaps, but the request was seem less strange if you hadn't been so reluctant to open your purse to me every time I asked," Lucien said. He grinned. "You haven't even said please."

Etienne's mouth twisted with distaste. _The things I do for love._ "Will you please lend me some money?"

"Lend or give?"

"I'll pay you back."

Lucien stared at him. "So, what do you need the money for? Have you had some bad luck at the cards?"

"No," Etienne said. "I want to buy an engagement ring, and I don't have enough to get a decent one right now."

"Can't you just wait a few days and-"

"I don't want to wait a few days!" Etienne declared. "The longer I wait the more…the harder it will be to…I can't wait. I dare not." _What if she finds someone else? Even if she doesn't the longer I delay the harder it will be to apologise, the less sincere it will seem. I need to strike now before the ashes of her affection for me have completely lost their lingering heat._ "I don't want to wait." _I want her back, now._

Lucien frowned. "Is this that dressmaker? The Italian one?"

"Lucrecia," Etienne murmured.

"I thought you were done with her?"

"I'm hoping…I'm hoping that what was done can be undone."

Lucien chuckled. "You're serious, then? I thought she was just a dalliance."

"Are you going to lend me some money or not?" Etienne demanded.

"Yes, I will," Lucien said. "Of course I will. What kind of a man would I be to refuse my own brother in such a cause?"

Etienne's eyebrows rose.

"Don't look at me like that, I am a servant of Venus; I would never stand in the way of romance by my churlishness," Lucien said. "How much do you need?"

Etienne took a deep breath. "A hundred pounds, though you may get some of it back."

Lucien smiled. "Spend all of it. This girl deserves an expensive ring if she's willing to put up with you and your dour ways."

Etienne didn't reply to that. It would have been churlish in the circumstances.

Lucien picked his jacket up off the floor – it had wine stains on it – and began to fish around for his purse. "How's Cinderella? Is there any word?"

"She does not leave her room," Etienne replied. "What she does there I know not."

"Waiting for her rotten husband to apologise, probably," Lucien spat. "He doesn't deserve her, you know. He treats her appallingly."

"He has made a mistake," Etienne conceded. "Can we not hope for forgiveness if we do wrong and then repent of it?"

Lucien scowled. "She deserves better. She deserves someone who would never need forgiveness."

Etienne scoffed. "Such a man is only to be found in a convent, where he is shared amongst all the nuns."

Lucien shrugged. "I disagree, but what matter? Here you go."

Etienne took the offered golden coins. "Thank you. This…is very generous of you."

"I have my faults but I am your brother," Lucien said. "I do…I don't just see you as a source of…good luck. If she says yes…I'll envy you."

Etienne smiled, if only slightly. "This girl…I'm sure she'll make you just as fortunate in time."

"Oh, she will," Lucien said confidently. "I know she will. I just wish that it would happen sooner. Etienne?"

"Yes?"

"You know that Mother will never approve of you marrying a tradeswoman, don't you?"

Etienne pocketed the coins his brother had given him. "Honestly, Lucien, if she says yes…I couldn't care less what Mother says afterwards."

* * *

Eugene sat with his head in his hands, wondering how he could have let things reach this pass.

 _I only wanted to protect her, is that so wrong?_

 _Is that really what you wanted?_

 _Yes, it was, of course it was._

 _How have any of your secrets protected her?_

 _I…I shouldn't need to tell her everything, why can't she just trust that I know what I'm doing and that I'm doing what's best for her?_

 _Why can't you trust her with the truth?_

 _I have a right to my own past, I've done nothing wrong._

 _You told her you didn't know why you married her, was that not wrong?_

 _That…that was a slip of the tongue, I was angry, my temper got the better of me._

 _Then what's the answer? Why is Cinderella here? Why did you marry her?_

 _Because I love her?_

 _What does that mean? You say it, but then you lie to her and keep secrets from her and you tell her nothing. How can you say that, and then speak of love?_

 _Because I want her to love me back!_

 _And what does that mean? What do you want from this marriage?_

 _I want happiness for both of us! I want a refuge from the troubles of the world._

 _That sounds more like a mistress than a wife._

 _Well…I suppose that is why I had mistresses in the past._

 _So why did you marry Cinderella?_

 _Because…because it was what my father and the court expected of me. God, I've treated her badly, haven't I? Except…she was happy, wasn't she? I've given her everything that she could wish for…_

 _Except for what she most, it seems._

 _What do I do? What should I do?_

 _Make things right with her, but how?_

 _If I knew that I wouldn't be in this position, would I?_

* * *

In many ways, Etienne Gerard would rather have faced a square of infantry than have opened Lucrecia's door and stepped over the threshold.

After all, the infantry could only shoot him. Lucrecia could leave him broken, humiliated and despondent.

And yet…if he did not do this then he would regret it for the rest of his life, which would be spent wondering what might have been.

The ring felt heavy in his pocket. Doubtless it would feel even heavier if she refused it.

Etienne took a deep breath, stiffened up his courage, and pushed the door open. The little bell over the door tinkled as he stepped through the doorway. The front of the shop was empty, and he guessed that she would be in the back working on a commission.

"Good morning, m-" Lucrecia emerged from behind the green felt curtain that separated the front of the shop from the back where she did all of her work. She was smiling…but her smile died as she saw that it was him. "It's you," she said, and her voice had such little warmth in it that Etienne's hopes began to flicker and die right at that very moment. She moved with a certain brittleness, as she crossed the room to stand beside a work-surface, with one hand resting upon the brown wood.

"Yes," Etienne said softly, as softly as the breeze upon spring grass. "It's me. You…look well."

"I feel well."

"I'm glad," Etienne murmured.

They stared at one another for a moment.

"If…if there's nothing that you want I'm afraid I'm rather busy-"

"I don't have a son," Etienne blurted out. "Or a daughter for that matter. No child at all."

 _I don't have a son…oh, God. Of all the things you could have said!_

"I…I'm glad to hear it," Lucrecia replied, in a tone that suggested that she found his confession as strange to hear as he, in retrospect, found it strange to say.

"I should have told you that from the start," Etienne said. "From the moment, you asked, I mean. I should have been honest with you."

"You're probably right," Lucrecia said. She leaned on the work-surface. "So why weren't you?"

Etienne hesitated.

Lucrecia sighed. "I have to-"

"It's Prince Eugene's son," Etienne said, before he lost her completely.

Lucrecia's eyes widened. "What?"

"His Highness has a son, raised by his grandmother, and I act as a go-between for His Highness, that's where the rumours came from," Etienne said, rattling through his explanation as quickly as he could. "That's why I didn't just deny it when you brought it up. I couldn't…rather, I didn't want to risk His Highness' secret getting out."

"And now? Has something changed?"

"Princess Cinderella knows the truth, so does her guard and one of her ladies-in-waiting, at least," Etienne said. "If the world does not know now it will soon enough, I think."

"Princess…he didn't tell her?" Lucrecia asked, her voice taking on an edge of outrage.

"No, he did not," Etienne replied. "And believe me: you are far from the first person to judge His Highness harshly for that."

"Oh, poor thing," Lucrecia murmured, and there was not a doubt in Etienne's mind that she was referring to the princess not the prince. "How is she?"

"I have not seen her," Etienne admitted. "She will not see anyone save only the ladies and servants of her own household."

Lucrecia made some sort of sympathetic noise that Etienne would not even attempt to classify. "It was cruel to keep such a thing from her."

"And from you?"

Lucrecia shook her head. "I have no need to know the details, I have no right to pry into the details of the prince's life but…" her eyes narrowed. "Since the rumours were not true you should have simply told me that when I asked you."

"I was worried that you might start looking-"

"You didn't trust me to trust you?" Lucrecia demanded.

"In fairness, you did ask Her Highness to find out the truth-"

"No, I didn't!" Lucrecia cried in tones perilously close to outrage.

Etienne paused. "You didn't?"

"No! You left and said goodbye, if you've forgotten. What reason had I then to look into your mysteries?"

Etienne frowned. "Then what was Angelique Bonnet doing snooping around?"

"I don't know, but it was not at my request."

Etienne snorted. "It appears that Princess Cinderella is a true friend to you, she looked into the matter even without you having to ask."

"I regret that I have no means to repay such friendship," Lucrecia murmured.

"I regret…" Etienne tailed off for a moment. "I have been a fool, mademoiselle."

"Yes," Lucrecia said bluntly. "You have."

 _I suppose it was too much to hope that she would deny it_. Etienne reached into his pocket with one hand. "I have been a fool," he repeated. "And yet, for all my foolishness, I have not been inconstant. My affections are unchanged and my wishes, though they be brought forward, likewise. I have offended you by my conduct, and in my present condition I have little enough of worldly goods to offer you. If I have too deeply wounded you to bear my presence then tell me so; one word from you will silence me on this subject forever. But, if any trace of your earlier feelings remain…" He got down on one knee and pulled out the ring. The diamond, set upon the band of gold, glittered in the sunlight. "Mademoiselle Lucrecia, will you take my hand?"

Lucrecia stared down at him. She stared for so long that Etienne began to lose hope. She stared for such a long time in silence that he could only guess that some emotions were warring in her heart that made the choice a hard once.

And then she smiled, and with that smile the spark of hope once more ignited within him, rising to a great inferno as she said, "Yes, Etienne, I will; I will take your hand, and give you mine as well."

* * *

Jean and Eugene faced one another across the field. Jean had taken off his jacket, and left it heaped upon the ground behind him. Eugene had not done likewise. Both men wore swords at their hips, though only Jean's hand hovered near the hilt.

Etienne stood between the two of them. He glanced from the prince to the young officer.

"Are you both prepared?" he asked.

"I am," Jean declared.

"No," Eugene replied.

Jean's eyes first widened, and then narrowed. "Do you break promise with me, your highness?"

"No, I admit that you were right," Eugene said. "I wounded Cinderella, a lady who deserves no hurt from me or anyone else. I…I have mistreated her, and I will not defend the indefensible with my sword, or any longer with words."

Jean's hand moved away from his sword. "You will make amends, then?"

"If Cinderella will forgive me, yes."

"Then I see no need to fight with you, Your Highness," Jean said. "Your apology will restore her honour well enough."

Eugene nodded. He hesitated for a moment. "Cinderella…didn't put you up to this, did she?"

Jean's face reddened a little. "I…unless Angelique has told her, Her Highness is not aware, Your Highness."

Eugene's smile was faint, but present. "I thought not. I was a little worried that she had changed more than I thought. All the same…she's lucky to have you."

"Her Highness is more fortunate to have a husband who can admit when he is at fault."

"Eventually," Eugene replied. "And now…now I suppose I had better see if I can find a way to her forgiveness."

"Good luck, your highness," Jean said.

"Thank you," Eugene muttered. "I'm afraid I might need it."


	24. Reconciliation

Reconciliation

 _Since Eugene had neglected to bring a mirror with him, so that she could see the necklace that he had placed around her neck and pronounced so beautiful, Cinderella had no choice but to get up and walk towards the river._

 _"Be careful," Eugene said, although he sounded a little bored and disinterested as he said it._

 _Cinderella giggled. "I'm not the one who forgot to bring a mirror."_

 _She walked gracefully to the riverbank, and leaned out over the water. Cinderella smiled, and gasped as she saw the lovely necklace that her prince had given her._

 _"Oh!" she cried. "It's beautiful!"_

 _They were pearls, large pearls, each one a little larger than the tip of her thumb, strung twice around her neck, once tightly round her throat and a second time hanging down a little more loosely. And in the centre of the second string of pearls was a sapphire the size of a pebble, as blue as the bluest of oceans, cut in the shape of a heart._

 _Cinderella fussed with her new necklace, tugging on it this and way and that, turning her head to the left and to the right, looking down at her reflection in the shimmering water from every angle until it looked absolutely perfect._

 _It was beautiful. So was her dress, and the diamonds on her wrist, and the pearls dangling from her other arm, but most beautiful of all to her was her wedding ring, for all that it was but a band of gold upon her finger, nonetheless it was more precious to her than all the rest combined._

 _"That's enough," Eugene commanded. "Come back here now."_

 _Cinderella smiled, as she turned away from the river and looked back at him, sitting down, waiting for her to return. But before she could take more than half a step away from the river back, no more than half a step back in his direction, she was arrested by something holding fast the back of her dress, causing the hem to stick in place._

 _"What's the matter?" Eugene asked languidly._

 _"My dress...it seems to be caught on something," Cinderella said, twisting round and bending down to try and see what on earth was the cause of it. "But I can't see-" Her whole body shivered as she felt a cold, clammy sensation around her ankle. "Oh! It feels like something's got hold of my foot, can you-" Cinderella gasped in horror as the grip on her foot hauled backwards on it. She felt forwards, landing on her front with an oof, and scrabbled at the ground with her white-gloved hands as she began to be pulled backwards towards the river. No, not a river at all, not any more. It was a great chasm now, a gaping chasm in the earth descending down into lightless darkness._

 _"Oh no! No!" Cinderella shrieked, as her hands clawed for purchase in the earth. She was being pulled by both feet now, she squirmed and kicked her feet in vain, and by her skirt and by the bow tied in the sash around her waist, it all kept pulling her backwards. Already her legs were dangling over the abyss, she had been pulled in up to the waist and was sliding further and further back each moment._

 _"Eugene!" Cinderella cried. "Eugene please, help me!"_

 _He would save her; Cinderella clung to that certain hope as terror rose up in her breast. He would save her because he loved her, and he was her prince, and a prince always saved his princess when she had no other hope._

 _And indeed, Eugene sprang forward, and grabbed her hand in his...and then he plucked the wedding ring from off her finger, and smiled as he put it in his pocket._

 _"Eugene?" Cinderella asked._

 _Eugene stared at her in disdain. "Why are you here?" he demanded. And then he let her go._

 _Cinderella screamed as she was pulled into the abyss._

She was woken by the sensation of her head hitting the pillow with crashing force, her eyes snapping open to be confronted by the darkness that embraced her bedchamber.

 _A nightmare. It was only a nightmare,_ Cinderella thought. She rolled onto her side, with her face a picture of misery. _But a nightmare that seems to be coming true._

She heard a snuffling, growling sound behind her as Bruno climbed up onto her bed.

"Oh, Bruno, did I wake you?" Cinderella asked. She rolled onto her back once more as she scratched the old hound behind the ears. "I didn't realise I was making so much noise."

Bruno made a low barking sound.

"No, I'm fine," Cinderella lied. "You go on back to sleep, now. You need to rest at your age."

Bruno snuffled in curmudgeonly outrage, but he licked at her face regardless.

"Yes, I love you too," Cinderella said. "Now bed."

As Bruno turned to get off her bed and return to his own, Cinderella heard the sound of footsteps running up the stairs.

The bedroom door burst open as a small figure ran inside - only to stumble in the darkness and fall flat on her face.

"Ow," Angelique declared plaintively.

"Angelique!" Cinderella cried, sitting up in bed. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine," Angelique said. She got up, muttering her breath (although Cinderella thought she heard something about clothes), rising in the darkness, barely visible to Cinderella except as a particularly dense patch of shadow. "I was worried about you. I heard screaming."

"Oh, I'm so sorry if I woke you," Cinderella said. "It was just a nightmare. I'm fine now, really."

Angelique sat down on the foot of Cinderella's bed. "You don't want to be lied to but you can lie to me? Is that what they mean by the royal prerogative?"

Cinderella looked down, though she didn't know if Angelique would be able to see the gesture. "There's nothing you can do to help me. There's nothing anyone can do. The sun has turned his back on me and cast me into darkness."

"You must be exaggerating."

"He told me that he didn't know why he married me," Cinderella murmured. "That two days ago now. I thought...if he didn't really mean that wouldn't he have come to me by now?"

"Maybe you should go to him?"

"No, I...I couldn't do that," Cinderella replied. "I'm too much a coward; I couldn't bear to be dismissed in front of everyone. I suppose I'm hiding up here, waiting."

"Just because you argued doesn't mean that-"

"He doesn't remember why he married me," Cinderella repeated. "And there were never any good reasons anyway, for the crown prince to marry a girl like me."

"Please don't talk like that," Angelique said. "Just because there aren't any reasons like 'I'm rich and I have an old name' doesn't mean that there aren't good reasons."

"That's very kind of you to say," Cinderella said, without much conviction.

Angelique was silent for a moment. "There are times when I think I know who you are, and then something happens and I realise that I don't understand you at all. Somebody tried to shoot you, and you were upset about it that night; but next morning you were bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked. Yet now...two days, going on three, and I think you might be getting worse."

"So long as I had Eugene's love, so long as I knew he loved me as I loved him, then I could bear almost anything in time," Cinderella murmured. "But what should I stand on now that rock is gone?"

Angelique was silent again. "You're not alone, princess. Please don't forget that."

"Thank you, Angelique, I appreciate that," Cinderella said. "But in this palace only one person's opinion matters concerning me."

 _And he doesn't know why I'm here._

* * *

She didn't get dressed. All her lovely gowns and pretty dresses with all of their sashes, ribbons, roses and petticoats had, one way or another, come from Eugene and…and she didn't feel comfortable putting them on when he might, at any moment, demand them back from her.

Not to mention that in her present low and melancholy state she doubted that even putting on a beautiful dress could have raised her mood at all.

And so she sat in the sitting room in shapeless blue nightgown, the only garment she still had in her possession that was actually hers, with her hair devoid of hold or decoration, simply falling down around her head to the shoulder. She wore no jewellery, for that was all Eugene's too, and even her wedding ring…she had thought she knew what that meant but…but clearly she had been mistaken.

Marinette set a tray down on the table in front of her: a pot of tea, a china cup, a jug of milk, a bowl of steaming hot porridge and a plate containing two croissants.

"Breakfast is served," Marinette said, with an encouraging smile on her face such as a mother might give to their sick child. She poured the tea, and added milk and a dash of honey just the way Cinderella had grown to like it. "Enjoy."

Cinderella looked up at her, already dressed in tan and brown that brought out her hazel eyes. "I didn't ask you to do this. I hadn't even run for breakfast."

"No," Marinette agreed. "But I knew you would, because you aren't planning to go downstairs, are you?"

"No," Cinderella admitted. She didn't go down for breakfast or dinner, but had meals brought to her here. The servants still obeyed her, and called her ma'am or highness for how long that might last. They all…they all asked how she was, and she didn't quite understand why. But she was grateful that they had all been more attentive and considerate than she had feared they might become.

"I knew that you'd want something about now," Marinette said. "And, since I was up…"

"Thank you," Cinderella murmured. "You're very kind."

"You deserve kindness, in your situation," Marinette said softly. She sat down in the red velvet armchair nearby. "And Lucien asked me to take care of you."

"Oh, he's such a dear to think of me," Cinderella said.

"He's very fond of you."

"I know, and I'm very fond of him too," Cinderella replied. "Have you eaten?"

"No."

"Oh, you must have something. Have a croissant."

"No, I'm fine-"

"You can't expect me to sit here and eat while you go hungry," Cinderella said. "Please, have something, I insist."

Marinette plucked one of the croissants off the plate and began to nibble on it, while Cinderella spooned hot porridge into her mouth.

"There's too much for me here anyway," Cinderella murmured.

"Yes, I've noticed that you never eat very much; never everything on your plate," Marinette said softly. "Why is that, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, it's quite simple really," Cinderella said. "I am…I was…keeping my figure for Eugene. I wasn't sure how he'd react if I started to put weight on. Plus, Lucrecia tailors all my gowns so perfectly that I'm not sure I'd still fit into them if I gained an extra inch." Cinderella looked down at her lap. "If only I'd put the same thought into pleasing him with my actions as well as my looks then-"

"This isn't your fault," Marinette interrupted her.

Cinderella smiled sadly at her. "That's kind of you to say, but he is the prince and I…I'm only the servant girl he blessed with all good fortune. How can it not be my fault?"

"A diadem doesn't make a man more than human, any less liable to make mistakes," Marinette said. "He…you never told us what you were arguing about."

"That…that isn't my secret to tell," Cinderella replied.

"Angelique knows, doesn't she?"

"Yes," Cinderella allowed. "But not because I told her. She found out before I did. I haven't told anyone."

"Don't you think you're entitled to?"

"No," Cinderella said, thinking of Philippe. "No, I'm not."

"Very well," said Marinette, disappointed by resigned.

Her day was listless, just as the two days that preceded it had been. She didn't get dressed, she didn't go out, she didn't…she did nothing. An immense lethargy had consumed her spirit and kept her idle, inactive. Her ladies kept her company, of which she was very glad, and even Angelique made an effort not to look sullen, although she didn't quite succeed. Grace played the piano to try and cheer her up, while Augustina urged her to give an interview of Monsieur Valis of the _Gazette_ to tell her side of the story. Cinderella wasn't interested, for all that the _Courier_ was already running articles suggesting all sorts of scurrilous reasons why she and Eugene might be at loggerheads.

"You need to defend yourself," Augustina insisted. "Or else public opinion will turn on you."

Angelique said, "The servants are on her side, nobody who knows the princess believes-"

"Most people don't know her, the only know what they read about her," Augustina said sharply. "The servants are on your side, but the nobility will be with his highness, not you, and if your liberal friends suspect you of any immoral conduct."

"She hasn't done anything immoral!" Angelique snapped.

"Then she needs to tell people that before they believe what they are being told!"

But Cinderella didn't really want to talk to Monsieur Valis, or anybody else about this. Apart from the question of Philippe – and she didn't have the right to reveal the truth about; she might not approve of Eugene's choices regarding his son but the fact remained that he was Eugene's son, not hers – she just didn't feel like talking about it at the moment, still less having her melancholy printed for the reading pleasure of strangers. And so she sat in her room and did little more than nothing until just after noon on that third day when Eugene suddenly appeared.

They looked at one another, Eugene standing in the doorway in his jacket, wearing a sword at his hip. Cinderella sitting down in her shabby old nightgown, and heaven knows how appalling she must look.

 _As if my looks could make any difference any more._

"Prince Eugene," she murmured. _Have you come to cast me off?_

"Cinderella," he said quietly. "May I have a word with you? In private."

Angelique frowned. Marinette glanced sideways at Cinderella. It was sweet of them, but really there was nothing they could do.

"It's alright," Cinderella murmured. "Thank you all, you've been so kind."

"Your highness," they all said, as they curtsied to her, and to Eugene, and took their leave.

Angelique lingered a little longer than the rest. "I thought you might have a scar or something," she said in a decidedly surly tone.

Eugene snorted. "No, and your friend is fine as well. We came to an understanding."

Angelique's eyebrows climbed towards her parting.

"Angelique," Cinderella gently reminded her. "Thank you."

"Right," Angelique said. "Highness." She essayed a clumsy curtsy before she followed the other ladies out.

"What was that about a scar?" Cinderella asked.

Eugene waved one hand to dismiss the question. "Not important. I wanted to talk with you, not talk about them."

"Very well," Cinderella said. "What do you want to talk about?"

Eugene stared down at her. "You look...am I responsible for this?"

Cinderella folded her hands in her lap. "I suppose I haven't really felt like getting dressed, or...Besides, all my other clothes are yours. Everything that is mine is really yours, except this."

"Perhaps, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to take it all away from you."

"Aren't you?"

"No!" Eugene cried. "No, of course not, how can you even say such a thing?"

Cinderella hesitated. "You...you said-"

"I didn't mean it! I lost my temper and my tongue slipped, I would have explained that if you'd given me a chance instead of running away!" Eugene shouted. He paused, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I...I didn't come here to fight with you again, I swear it."

Cinderella regarded him warily. "Then why did you come?"

Eugene turned away from her. He paced over to the wall, and gazed upon a pastoral landscape hanging from it, set within a gilt frame. He rested one arm upon the wall, and kept his eyes fixed upon the landscape. "I...you know, it occurs to me - to my shame - that the only time I have treated you properly was on the night we met."

"That's not true," Cinderella said. She didn't believe that, she didn't want to believe that, she didn't even know what it might mean. "You were so kind-"

"Perhaps, but kind is not correct," Eugene said, softly but as firmly as the wall on which he leaned his arm nonetheless. "On that night I treated you as a lady-"

"You have always treated me like a lady," Cinderella said. It felt strange, when she thought about it, to be defending him after he had so upset her, after she had been so afraid of what else he might say or do to her. But in defending him, she was also defending herself. What was he saying? That it had all been a lie? That he had not meant a single moment of it? Where was this going?

"I suppose it might seem so, to you," Eugene replied. He sighed, and his voice was full of melancholy. "But, Cinderella, you don't really understand how a lady should be treated, do you?"

There was no malice in his tone, but Cinderella found it in his words nonetheless. It made her own voice prickly as she said, "I understand that I had nothing to complain of in your behaviour, until-"

"Yes," Eugene said. "Until. I'm sorry, Cinderella."

Cinderella stared at his back, waiting for a moment to see if more would be forthcoming. Her throat was dry, and it made her voice a little hoarse when it came. "For what?"

"You've transformed your whole life around me," Eugene said. "But I...I see now that I have merely set you in the corner of my life, if that. It's unfair to you and it's not how a wife deserves to be treated by her husband. I...you asked me why I married you. You asked me why you were here."

"And you didn't know," Cinderella whispered.

Eugene bowed his head. "I won't lie to you, not any more. I won't pretend that I had never considered marrying anyone before you. There was-"

"Katherine," Cinderella said.

He looked at her. Eugene's brown eyes, she saw, were full of pain. "Of course. Etienne told you, didn't he?"

Cinderella nodded her head once.

"Good," Eugene said softly. "I won't have to speak of it, then. I...married you, I asked you to marry me, because I didn't want to lose you; because I didn't want to ever let you go; because I wanted to keep you forever, or for as long as I live at any rate. What I didn't want...what I didn't even think of doing...was treating you like a wife. Why are you here? You're here...you're here, God help me, to be my retreat. To be the person I go to to get away from my life, the burdens of my position, the succession, the country, all of it. When you told me about Theodora, you told me that she had said you were my doll, to hang upon my arm at state functions. You never said as much but I could tell you were worried it might be true. I suppose you've started believing it now, haven't you?"

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "Yes," she confessed, her voice still and small and barely audible.

Eugene's face crumpled. "I can understand why you might think that, but...it isn't true. Balls, parties, sharing you with the world, I thought that those were things I had to put up, with the sight of you beautifully attired providing some sort of recompense. But what I wanted were the moments when we were alone together, as we were on our honeymoon. I suppose that's what I wanted when I was with you: a feeling like an everlasting honeymoon, a fantasy cut off from my life.

"But you're my wife, and you shouldn't be a retreat from my life you should be in my life, a part of it, at the heart of it and I...I haven't put you in anything like the place that you deserve."

"I've never had any reason to complain about the way you've treated me," Cinderella said. _Until recently, anyway._ "I understand that you have important work, I understand that you can't always spend time with me, I understand all of that. My complaint is that you keep secrets from me, that you don't trust me-"

"To know the real me, yes, it is all one, don't you see?" Eugene said loudly. "I didn't want anything to intrude upon us as though...as though we were...stupid of me, I know. I...it will stop now. I won't hold anything back, I swear to you. I will share myself with you entirely, as I should have."

That...that would be wonderful if he meant it. Cinderella felt hope begin to rise within her heart, like the sun emerging from below the horizon to chase away the darkness. But like the sun the ray of hope rose slowly, and unlike that celestial orb it was trailed by clouds of slight scepticism.

And so she looked at him, and waited.

"You could start now," she said softly when nothing was initially forthcoming.

Eugene let out a kind of bark of laughter. "Yes, I suppose I invited that, didn't I? Where to start?"

"How much have you been keeping from me?"

Eugene cringed. "Not that much, I promise. Although..."

"What was it bothering you, on the last day of the honeymoon?" Cinderella asked. "You were distracted, but when I asked you to confide in me you told me it was a secret of state. It wasn't, was it?"

"Even if it was it would have been wrong to hold it back from you, you are as much the state as I am now," Eugene replied. "But no, it wasn't. It was a letter from Etienne, confiding that he believed he knew who was behind the attack on our wedding."

Cinderella's eyes widened as a chilling sensation descended her spine and made it shiver with the memory of the gunshot and the screaming. "And...and after? At the Anti-Corn Law League?"

"Quite probably, it would be very unfortunate if two different groups hated you so much," Eugene muttered. "There is no proof, of any of this, and Father doesn't believe it, but...Etienne believes that the attack was the work of Princess Frederica of Normandie."

 _Barring any unfortunate accidents._ Cinderella remembered the other princess, who had sought her out at after the ballet. _I would hope that even nihilists and anarchists would possess sufficient sense of art and beauty not to mar Swan Lake with their activities._ "But...but why? Why would she want...why would she want to kill me?"

"I cannot say for sure," Eugene said. "Etienne may not even be correct, but...but I believe him."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Cinderella asked.

"Because at the time there hadn't been any more attacks," Eugene said. "I didn't want you to jump at shadows; I knew that you wouldn't want to be confined and so I didn't want you to be afraid to leave confinement. So I set guards to keep you safe and I suppose...I hoped that they wouldn't be necessary. And then, after the second attempt...it seemed a little late to be honest with you."

"I see," Cinderella said. She sighed. "Thank you, for being honest with me now. That's all I want, all that I wanted, was for you to trust me with your secrets, and share your life with me. Except..."

"Except?"

"You're still not being completely honest, are you?"

Eugene blinked. "I don't know what you mean."

"You didn't keep Philippe a secret from me because you didn't want to involve me in your life; Philippe isn't in your life either. You kept him secret because..." Cinderella hesitated. It was an awful thing that she was about to accuse Eugene of, and after he had humbled himself before her enough to admit that he was wrong and swear off repetition...but she believed that she was right, she was convinced of it, and what Eugene was doing to his son was much worse than he had done to her. "It's because you blame him, isn't it?"

Eugene would not meet her eyes. "I can't even look at him."

Cinderella got to her feet. "He's an innocent child, Eugene."

"He's a child who wears my face," Eugene replied. "When I see it…he reminds me that I…she haunts me still?"

"Katherine?"

Eugene nodded. He still wouldn't look at her. "I…I have nightmares. She accuses me of betraying her, of forsaking her memory."

"With me?" Cinderella whispered, although it was hardly a question because, after all, who else could it be?

Eugene nodded. "I don't know if it is her ghost or just my own guilt, but…but she haunts me."

"If it were Katherine's ghost she might be less concerned with me and more concerned with the way you have you abandoned her son," Cinderella remarked, trying not to sound snappish or unkind while at the same time making it clear to him that as far as she was concerned this was no minor matter to be brushed over.

Eugene turned away. "Please, Cinderella, don't press me on this."

"He has no mother-"

"That is-" Eugene began, stopping suddenly before he could say the fatal words.

"Please," Cinderella whispered. "Please don't say it." _I don't know if I could love you if you said those next three words_.

Eugene glanced back at her. "I…no. I'm sorry, I…I didn't mean to-"

"You're sorry?" Cinderella asked. "I'm not the one you've wronged in this."

"He isn't badly treated."

"He has no mother," Cinderella repeated. "He has no father. Don't you realise how lonely that must be for him, how unloved he must feel?"

"I lost my mother, too," Eugene told her.

"But you still had your father," Cinderella cried. She placed one hand upon his arm, turning him back, turning him to look at her. "You had your father, and he loved you more than anything in the world. And when my mother died I still had my father, too and for a while it was alright. Yes, I missed my mother so much, but I had my father and we were happy. But when my father died…you can't imagine what that was like."

"Your Stepmother-"

"No, this isn't about my Stepmother or what she did to me," Cinderella said. "Even if she hadn't been so…even if I hadn't been such a…if we hadn't…I was all alone in the world. I felt completely alone. And Philippe must feel the same way. He's your son, Eugene. Your son. How can you not love him? If…if I died giving birth to our child would you send him away to be watched over by Etienne Gerard?"

"Don't say something like that, don't even suggest it!" Eugene said.

Cinderella didn't flinch. "He's your son," she repeated. "He deserves to know his father."

Eugene stared at her, wordless. There were…there were tears in his eyes.

"A father?"

"Yes," Cinderella murmured. "It's…" What should she say? That it was what Katherine would want? No, that would be too presumptuous. No, there was only one thing that she could say. "It is the right thing to do. And I think you know that."

Eugene frowned. "I…I'm not sure I know how begin being a father."

Cinderella smiled, as she put one hand on his arm. "I'll help you. I mean, I don't know how to begin being a stepmother either, but we will find out together, you and I. As husband and wife."

"As husband and wife," Eugene repeated. "Yes. Together. Thank you. Thank you for your forgiveness and…and for this."

"It was nothing," Cinderella said. She did forgive him, absolutely; and yet, despite that, she could not honestly say that she had returned immediately to that same state of perfect trust in him that she had dwelt in before, when she knew, she _knew_ , that he was the one man in all the world who would never hurt her.

Still, she had her faults just as he had, and he tolerated her foibles better, perhaps, than she had done his. She forgave him. She loved him, she always had. And she trusted him to make amends, even if she accepted the possibility that he might not, or might return to his old ways of secrecy and keeping her at arms length from all else about him.

But he had told her that he would not do so, and she trusted him. Almost completely.

"What…what happens now?" Eugene asked.

Cinderella asked, "When was the last time you saw your son?"

"When he was newly born," Eugene confessed.

"Then I think it's high time you met him," Cinderella said. "Let me get dressed, and I'll come with you; that is, if you want me to."

"I'm not sure I could do it without you," Eugene replied. "I…I suppose this means I'll have to tell Father, too. Tell him I've been hiding a grandson from him."

"I think he'll have to find out, yes."

"That…that will be a conversation to look forward to," Eugene muttered.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Yes, Cinderella is becoming a stepmother! I didn't realise until recently how deliciously ironic that is._

 _Which is not to say, however, that motherhood or step-motherhood will suddenly become the driving force of the entire story. It won't. It will just be another thing going on in Cinderella's life, complicating it yet further._

 _CocoRocks - Yes, I have read Dream Come True, but a few years ago now. It's a pity that it appears to have died, it was very well written._


	25. Philippe

Philippe

Cinderella had always dressed – well, always in the little over a month that she had known Eugene, in what seemed at times like a life completely detached from that which had come before – with one eye upon Eugene. Would he like her dress? Would he like her hair? Would he approve? Would he think that she was pretty?

Would he still love her if she looked this way?

None of those questions had gone away, far from it. As Cinderella dressed with the help of Duchamp, she still had one eye upon Eugene.

But now, as much as she wanted to impress him, she also wanted to impress upon him just what he'd been missing during the three days that she had lived in fear of his complete and utter displeasure falling upon her like a sword.

She hoped – a foolish hope perhaps, and certainly a petty one, but Cinderella's hope nonetheless – that when he saw her in all her splendour he would realise what a fool he had been to treat her that way.

She did not voice any of this aloud, but she half got the impression from Duchamp's manner that she didn't need to. Her ladies' maid seemed to comprehend her mood perfectly.

However, to a great extent all of that lay in the future. For what business lay before her now, escorting Eugene to visit his son for the first time, she could hardly wear one of her fanciest ballgowns, or drape herself in jewels.

But that didn't mean that she had to be drab, either.

Cinderella's dress was blue, with the bodice and the peplum that went all the way down to the knees at the back and just a little bit higher in the front all of a single piece, and that piece a royal blue. The skirt was A-line, more or less, and the underskirt beneath the peplum was a lighter blue with just a hint of turquoise about the colouring, descending to the floor to conceal her feet in their flat blue slippers from the sight of the world. The collar, which skirted the sweetheart neckline and wrapped around her arms below the shoulders, was of the same shade of light blue as the underskirt, felt soft and fluffy against her skin. There were no sleeves. There was a light blue bow in front of the dress, where the peplum met the underskirt, and a blue rose at the centre of the collar. It was far from the most exquisite gown in Cinderella's wardrobe, but it was a pretty thing and Eugene would probably think so as well. She hoped so, at least.

For jewellery she wore very little, this was hardly the occasion for too much of it: a black velvet choker, from which dangled three sparkling diamond studs, clasped around her throat; and a simple sapphire bracelet dangling loosely about her right wrist, combined with her wedding and engagement ring. She wore a blue ribbon tied up in a bow in her hair, but this was more for decoration than restraint, it didn't stop her locks from spilling onto her shoulders, though not beyond. Her cheeks were gently blushed, and her lips painted with a dark red shade called love's spell.

A spell that still held sway over her, and over Eugene too assuming he did not lie to her.

 _He has no reason to lie to me in this. He loves me still._

 _I must remind him why._

"All done, ma'am," Duchamp murmured, as she stepped back to give Cinderella the view of the full length mirror.

Cinderella regarded herself. "Thank you, Duchamp," she said. She glanced at the other woman. "For everything."

Duchamp nodded. "It is my pleasure to be of service to you, ma'am."

Cinderella smiled briefly at her, before she turned to face Serena and Angelique. The former was sitting on Cinderella's bed, with her arms folded across her chest; the latter was standing beside the wall near the doorway, her hands hidden behind her back.

"What do you think?" Cinderella asked.

"I think it's incredible you're just going to forgive him and pretend as though nothing happened between you," Serena said bluntly.

"He asked me to forgive him-"

"Which doesn't mean you have to," Serena declared firmly. "What he's said and done is unconscionable!"

"You don't know-"

"I know enough!"

"Serena, please," Cinderella said, gently but firmly all the same. "Can you please let me finish."

Serena took a deep breath. "Of course, Cinderella, I'm so sorry. I'm just…I'm just outraged on your behalf, since you seem to have no outrage of your own."

"And I appreciate that," Cinderella murmured, favouring Serena with a small smile. "Believe me, I truly appreciate your concern. But I love Eugene, and although he made a mistake I believe that he loves me too. And so…since I love him, how could I not forgive him when he came to me and apologised? If I didn't forgive him…then I couldn't really claim to love him any longer, could I?"

"So that's it?" Serena asked. "All is forgiven?"

"But not forgotten," Cinderella whispered.

Serena pursed her lips together for a moment. "Has it crossed your mind that His Highness might not love you anything like as much as you love him?"

Cinderella blinked. She lowered her head for a moment, scarcely able to look Serena in the eyes. "I consider that every single day," she admitted. "And…and even if that is true…even if his care is only a tenth of mine…it's still much more than someone like me deserves."

"Cinderella-"

"You're doing the right thing," Angelique said, her voice as blunt as a cudgel. "Whatever we may think about the way that he's behaved – and I'm not saying that he's behaved well – you're doing the right thing."

Cinderella looked up, as Serena too turned her gaze on Angelique. "How can you possibly say that? Are these the low standards of the street talking because where I come from-"

"Oh, I'm sure that in your position you wouldn't stand for any of this," Angelique replied. "I'm sure you'd run along home and complain to your father the earl about how horrible your husband turned out to be, and raised all forces at court against him."

Serena stared down her nose at Angelique. "My father's a marquis, actually."

"Ooh, I'm so sorry," Angelique muttered. "But I'm not wrong, am I?"

Serena looked as if she'd caught a whiff of an appalling smell. "No."

"Very nice for you, I'm sure, but Cinderella doesn't have a father or a home or…" Angelique looked away from Serena and towards Cinderella herself. "I'm sorry to put it like that, I didn't mean to…it's like this: you could kick me and though I might not thank you for it I'd have no choice but to put up with it because…because what other choice have I got? Go back to the streets and what I was before? The only thing keeping me here is you: I'm here because you like me, and thank you very much for that, but…I'm sorry to have to say it but you're here because he likes you, loves you. You've got him just like I've got you and you can't afford to lose sight of that."

Cinderella didn't reply to that. There wasn't anything to say to it worth saying. Angelique was absolutely right, of course: that which lent a near-miraculous quality to her good fortune also lent precariousness to her position that depended entirely on the devotion of Eugene. However much she might feel ill-used she dared not trespass upon that devotion too much, not unless…she dared not.

Serena's eyes narrowed. "Alright, answer me this: would you roll over and take this from your little soldier boy?"

"My little soldier boy has a name, and he's worth-"

"Just answer the question, would you put up with-"

"Yes, I would, of course I would because he's my best boy and if we can't take the bad times with the good then what's the point?" Angelique snapped.

"Thank you, Angelique," Cinderella said mildly. "Thank you as well, Serena, but I'm not actually asking for advice."

"I just don't want to see you make the wrong decision, darling."

"I know," Cinderella replied. "But I have made my decision, and I don't intend to change it."

Serena bowed her head. "As you wish."

"I really do appreciate your concern, both of you," Cinderella said. "But now, if you'll excuse me, I should probably be going."

They both made way for her, and Cinderella departed from the somewhat safety and security of her chambers for the first time since she had returned from the discovery of Philippe, and made her way down the many windings stairs from the top of her high tower and into the bustling mainstay of the palace proper.

She had no guide down the stairs – she could find her way that far at least – and she found Eugene waiting for her at the bottom of the last of the many staircases.

His eyes alit when he caught sight of her completing her slow descent of the stairs, her skirt held up with both hands, and he quickly crossed the floor so that barely had Cinderella's feet left the very last stair and touched the wooden floor then he was before her.

Eugene took her hands in his. "You look beautiful."

Cinderella smiled, although with her mouth closed. "Thank you."

He bent down to kiss her, but Cinderella turned her head away slightly so that instead of her lips he kissed her upon the cheek instead.

"Cinderella," he murmured, and his voice did not attempt to hide his disappointment. He reached up with one hand to stroke her cheek.

It would have delighted her but days before, but now…now Cinderella reached up with her own right hand – her sapphire bracelet slipped more than halfway down her arm towards her elbow – and gently pulled his hand away. "Please don't."

"Cinderella," he repeated. "Cinderella, please look at me." He tilted her chin upwards – this time she did not resist him – so that she was looking into his face, his eyes. "I thought you had forgiven me?"

"That doesn't mean I can pretend that none of this happened," Cinderella whispered.

It was clear from the expression on Eugene's face that he had hoped, even if he had not expected, some degree of amnesia on her part. He said nothing, however, as he turned away from her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…what does this mean?"

Cinderella stepped lightly around him, so that she stood in front of him again. "It means…that I must ask you to be a little patient with me, until I can…just a little patience."

"Very well," Eugene said. He smiled. "I suppose that's the least that you deserve. Now, will you take my hand or is that also too much?"

"No," Cinderella said, extending one arm to him. "Please."

Eugene enclosed her own small hand inside his own. "I…I am sorry, about all this," he said. "I never…I truly care for you, you must not doubt that."

"I don't," Cinderella said. "Now, shall we go."

"Yes," Eugene said. "I…I've decided to speak to Father first, and then…then we'll go and see my son."

"Very well," Cinderella replied.

Eugene led her through the palace in search of His Majesty, whom they found coming out of a meeting with the Premier and some of his ministers.

"Aha!" cried His Majesty when he saw them. "Is all well again between you two? I was starting to wonder if I would have to intervene in whatever was going on. Cinderella, I do hope that my son has not offended you in any way."

Cinderella curtsied. "Thank you for your concern, your majesty. Everything is…everything is alright, now."

"Hmm," His Majesty muttered, as he looked between the two of them. "You should take more care, son; a good wife is a thing to be treasured, not taken for granted."

"I am..." Eugene hesitated, and glanced at Cinderella. "I realise that now, father. Could we have a word? In private, just the two of us."

The King's eyebrows rose. "Not very gallant of you, to leave your princess waiting outside."

"I don't mind, your majesty," Cinderella said quickly. "This is something you should discuss alone."

"Hmph, if you both insist," said His Majesty. "Although I will try to keep this brief, for your sake. Come along, son, let's hear whatever this is."

Cinderella sat down as the door into the room so recently vacated by the ministers closed behind Eugene and his father. She folded her hands in her lap, and played idly with the bracelet on her wrist, tugging it this way and that, as she waited for them to finish.

She could hear the low murmur of conversation from the other side of the door.

"YOU'VE GOT WHAT?"

Cinderella smiled as the King's voice exploded out from inside the room, followed by more low murmurs.

"HOW MANY YEARS?"

Cinderella couldn't restrain herself from laughter, even as she covered her mouth with one hand to hide it from general view.

She got to her feet at once as the doors burst open and His Majesty strode out, crimson-faced and muttering beneath his breath.

"Barefaced deception…lost time…" he stopped when he caught sight of Cinderella, with an expression almost as if he had forgotten that she was waiting outside. Doubtless the shock had driver her out of his mind. He stared for a moment, his mouth moving with no words emerging.

"Cinderella," he said. "On behalf of my son I would like to apologise for the shock that you doubtless received when you made this discovery."

"Father-"

"Don't take that tone with me, boy, not after keeping my grandson from me!" His Majesty snapped, waving an accusatory finger in Eugene's face. He took a deep breath, that seemed to be intended to calm himself down. "Now then, shall we go see the child?"

"We, your majesty?"

"I have been kept from my grandson for long enough, I shall not be detained one moment longer!" declared His Majesty. "Footmen!"

A pair of liveried footmen soon appeared in answer to the imperious royal summons.

"Ready my carriage!" cried the King. "And prepare the nursery."

"Oh, congratulations, your highness."

Cinderella's hand went to her stomach as she shook her head. "No, you see, I'm not-"

"Just do it!" the King yelled, and both footmen soon scarpered off about their tasks.

There was some delay in the three of them setting off while the King's carriage was made ready and a suitable escort assembled, and when they did set off it was accompanied by a troop of horse guards in glinting breastplates and tall plumed helmets, who rode before and behind the coach as it clattered through the city streets towards their destination.

"Leaving your son to be raised in such a place as this," the King grumbled. "Anonymously, no less."

"He's with his grandmother, Father," Eugene murmured.

"And I am his grandfather but you didn't consider my feelings!" retorted His Majesty. "Oh, if your mother had lived to see this…can you forgive him, Cinderella."

Cinderella glanced at Eugene. He looked so oppressed by his father's disapproval that her heart could not but go out to him, for all that he might deserve it. She slid her hand on top of his. "I already have, your majesty."

The King smiled. "You are a kind and generous woman, Cinderella; Eugene is very fortunate to have made a match with you."

"Would you please stop talking about me as though I'm not here?" Eugene demanded.

"For all that I have endured," His Majesty said. "For all that I have suffered in my loneliness, for all my concern over the future of this family I should think that this is the least revenge I am allowed?"

Eugene said nothing, not then, not for the rest of the journey as the carriage carried them through the streets to St Joan Avenue, and the little house in the middle of the terrace with the green door and the polished brass handle.

Eugene glanced at the door from out of the carriage window.

"This-" Cinderella began.

"I remember," Eugene whispered, and it seemed to Cinderella that she could almost see the ghosts upon his face: the ghosts of Katherine and all the time that they had shared.

He looked so lost, so…so afraid of this house and what lay inside and Cinderella…Cinderella could do nothing to help him. She was his wife, his princess but in the face of his past…she was nearly powerless. All she could go was squeeze his hand reassuringly, to remind him that he was not alone.

"Father," Eugene spoke, softly and with some little hesitation. "Would you mind waiting outside for a moment. I would like to go in with Cinderella first."

"I have waited long enough."

"This is the first time that I have seen…" Eugene hesitated. "That I have seen my son since he was born. I would…I'd like to…"

His Majesty's expression softened. "I understand. Go. I'll wait here until you have had time."

Eugene closed his eyes for a moment. "Thank you."

For a moment, and then another, and then a third, Eugene was completely still, as if he had forgotten what they were doing here and what was inside the house.

Then, almost abruptly, he leapt down from out of the carriage. Eugene turned and held out his hand to Cinderella. "Will you come with me?"

"Of course I will," Cinderella said, as she let him help her down from out of the carriage. Eugene kept a grip upon her hand as they walked to the door.

"I…I've never been so nervous about anything in my whole life," Eugene admitted.

"I know," Cinderella said. "That's why I'm here."

Eugene nodded absently. He seized the door handle and rapped upon it three times.

There was a delay of a few moments before the door scraped open. The formidable old woman, Philippe's grandmother, stood in the doorway before them. When her eyes alighted upon Eugene her face paled, even as it set with seeming hostility.

"What do you want?" each word of her demand was practically spat out of her mouth as though it were a curse.

"Madame," Eugene said quietly, showing no hostility in response to her own. "I would…I'd like to see my son."

"Would you now? That's a first."

Eugene didn't deny the charge, or say anything to mitigate the venom that she poured on him. "May I come in?"

"Why?" demanded the old woman. "Will you be here tomorrow? Or the day after that? He doesn't know you. He doesn't need to know you. And bringing her here, so you can parade your new wife in my Katherine's house? You've got a nerve."

"It isn't like that, Madame, I only want to see-" Eugene began.

"Why? Why now? You didn't want to know before."

"And that was wrong of me," Eugene said. "Please, Madame, do not deny me this."

"Or what?" she asked. "Will you have your men clear a path for you?"

"That isn't why they're here," Eugene replied. "Please, let me in. I will be here for him whenever he needs me from now, you have my-"

"Your word? The same word you gave to Katherine because I know what that's worth!" she snapped. The old woman shook her head furiously. "I know why you're really and I won't have it!"

Eugene snorted. He was starting to lose his temper now, Cinderella could see that clearly. There was only so much insult he could take piled on his head and after his father – and Cinderella conceded that her earlier behaviour had probably played a role as well, she inwardly cursed herself for having contributed to this with her stubbornness – and now this he was about reaching his limit.

"Eugene, please," she placed a hand upon his arm. "Will you excuse me for a moment?"

Eugene looked startled, "Cinderella?"

"Madame, may I come inside and talk with you for a moment?" Cinderella asked. "I promise that I will be no trouble."

The old woman's nose twitched like a horse. She gave a peremptory nod, before looking at Eugene once more. "You wait outside."

"Cinderella," Eugene murmured. "What's going on?"

"I'll only be a moment, and I hope…please trust me," Cinderella said,

Eugene's face was contorted with misery, but he said, "Good luck."

"Thank you," Cinderella said, and to make up a little for earlier she leaned forwards upon her tip-toes to kiss him quickly on the cheek, before the old woman stepped back to let her in.

The door was closed behind her, and a shadow fell across the hallway with its portrait of Katherine, still seeming to stare at Cinderella as if the other girl knew just who and what she was.

The old woman led her into the living room, where Philippe was playing on the floor with some painted wooden soldiers.

"Hello again, Philippe," Cinderella said, as she smiled and waved the at the young boy.

"Hello," he piped, waving back at her with his whole arm as his grandmother scooped him up in her arms and sat him on her lap as she settled into a rocking chair. Cinderella sat down on a little wooden stool opposite her. It was not the most comfortable, but she could bear it.

"Thank you for agreeing to talk to me, madame," Cinderella said. "I don't believe we've ever been properly introduced."

"I know who you are, princess," the other woman said.

"My name is Cinderella," Cinderella said mildly.

The old woman frowned at her for a moment. "Esme," she said. "My name is Esme Clairval, your highness."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Madame Clairval," Cinderella said.

"I wish that I could say the same, princess," Esme said. "But at the moment I don't know whether to hate you or pity you."

"I suppose I can understand why you might not like me very much," Cinderella murmured. "But why would you pity me?"

"That man out there destroyed my daughter," Esme declared. "And now he'll do the same thing to you."

"I understand how you must feel-"

"Do you?" Esme asked. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes," Cinderella said simply, because she didn't really want to elaborate unless she had to.

Esme stared at her. "Did you lose your parents? Mother, or father?"

"Both," Cinderella admitted.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Esme said softly. "But it isn't the same thing at all. I'm sure you were upset, I don't mean to dismiss, but…you still had your future to live for. My future died with my daughter in the birthing bed. All I have left is this boy, and now you've come to take him away from me."

Cinderella didn't deny that. How could she, when it was obviously what the king had in mind. "You…you don't care for Prince Eugene much, do you?"

"He killed my daughter."

 _He feels the same way about Philippe._ "I understand it was an accident."

"It wouldn't have happened if he'd left her alone," Esme cried. "I warned her, Katherine, I warned her about him but she wouldn't listen. She was always headstrong. Too headstrong for her own good."

Cinderella folded her hands in her lap. "Prince Eugene is a good man."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes," Cinderella said. "Yes, I do."

"So did my Katherine," Esme said. "Now she's dead and he's with you. What does that tell you about what kind of man he is?"

"You're making it sound much worse than it is."

"Perhaps I am. Perhaps that's my right. But if you want to take the risk then why should I try and stop you. But you can't take my grandson away from me. I won't let you."

"Eugene is his father."

"Much as you'd know it from the way he behaves!"

"I know," Cinderella said softly. "That's why he's here now, to make amends."

"To steal Philippe away from me!"

"No," Cinderella said firmly. "To invite you to come and live with us."

Esme was actually stunned into silence for a moment. "To…what?"

Cinderella's hand went to her heart. "I truly believe that no child should be without their father, if that can possibly be avoided. But I also know that you have taken care of Philippe since he was born, and I would never dream of taking him away from you. That's why we would like you both to come and live in the palace, with His Majesty, Prince Eugene and myself. Philippe will be brought up with…" she chuckled. "With every luxury and comfort, with his father and his grandfather. And you'll have servants to help you, and attend to your needs. Your grandson will be treated as a prince and you, while you'll still have care of him, will have every assistance you require."

"Really?" Esme asked suspiciously. "This is what you came here to ask me?"

"Yes," Cinderella lied. It would be true by the time she had talked to Eugene about it, she couldn't see any reason why he wouldn't agree. She was absolutely certain that His Majesty would agree to have Madame Clairval living with them like a shot if it meant having his grandson nearby without fuss.

"And what about you?" Esme demanded. "Do you want another woman's child in your home."

Cinderella smiled. "When I was nine years old my father married again, because as much as he loved me he worried that he couldn't take care of me by himself. He thought that I needed a mother's care. I would never presume to try and replace your daughter as Philippe's mother…but if he should ever need the care of a mother then I would be happy to provide it."

Esme was silent for a moment. "I do worry sometimes, about what would happen to Philippe if…I'm not getting any younger after all and…I suppose it's for the best for him, isn't it?"

"He'll have the best of everything, I guarantee it," Cinderella said, speaking confidently from personal experience.

"Very well," Esme said softly. "I agree."

"I'm sure you won't regret it," Cinderella said. "May I go tell Eugene? And, perhaps he could come and see Philippe while you're getting a few things together. I'm sure someone will come to collect your belongings, but if you…"

"Yes, I understand," Esme said. "I'll…show this prince in and then I'll go and start packing."

Cinderella got up off the hard wooden stool and made her way quickly back to the front door, which she opened to find Eugene pacing up and down outside.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Philippe and Madame Clairval are coming to live with us," Cinderella said.

"They're what?"

"You can't tell me that we don't have enough room," Cinderella replied. "And she can't very well be left behind; she's his grandmother, and she's all he knows. You can't take that away."

"I know that, but I wasn't actually intending to take him anywhere," Eugene muttered.

Cinderella said, "I think your father might have had other ideas."

"What's going on in there?" His Majesty demanded from the carriage.

"The boy's grandmother is accompanying him to the palace, your majesty," Cinderella called. "I took the liberty to telling her that would be fine."

"What? Splendid, yes, can I see him now?"

"Not yet, Father, just a little longer," Eugene said. "Is it safe for me to come in?"

Cinderella opened the door, and Eugene walked in briskly, as Cinderella showed him into the living room.

He stopped in the doorway, looking down on Philippe just as Philippe looked up at Eugene.

Father and son, so very alike, stared at each other.

Philippe got slowly to his feet. "Hello."

Eugene knelt down with aching, agonising slowness like a mountain crumbling into stones. "Hello. You must be Philippe."

"Yes," Philippe said. "What's your name, sir?"

Eugene let out a little gasp of breath. "My name…I…I am your father."

Philippe's eyes widened. His mouth hung open. "Papa?"

Eugene gasped again, and this time he reached out and grabbed Philippe, pulling him into an embrace.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry for everything."

As Cinderella smiled down upon them, she could see that Eugene had tears in his eyes.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Another short chapter; there was going to be a fair bit more to it but that will become it's own chapter instead. My aim is to have another update by the end of the month, because I'm doing NaNoWriMo again this year and so if there isn't another chapter by the 31st there won't be one until December._


	26. The Weight of Sorrows

The Weight of Sorrows

"And so there you have it," Cinderella concluded. "His Majesty has demanded a grand reception tonight to formally present Philippe, but I don't see any harm in telling you now." His Grace the Grand Duke had looked as though he were going to faint at the prospect, but His Majesty had no doubt that he would have it all sorted out by this evening.

"Now, I don't know how much contact you're actually going to have with him," Cinderella continued. "It may not be very much at all. But I would like you all, if you come across him, to make him feel very welcome here, and his grandmother as well. If you are all as kind to them as you have been to me, I'm sure that they'll soon feel right at home."

She smoothed out the folds of her skirt, and clasped her hands together in front of her as she waited for a response from her ladies.

They were all gathered in the sitting room of Cinderella's chambers, Cinderella herself facing the others. Angelique, who knew most of this already – although not the part about Philippe and his grandmother coming to live in the palace – was trying to look as surprised as everyone else. The rest did look surprised, to the point of shock even. There was not a single face among them that looked to be taking the news calmly.

Augustina said, "Prince Eugene has a bas-"

"Please don't use that word, Augustina," Cinderella said. "It's very unkind."

Augustina snorted out of her nostrils. "Princess Cinderella, kindness or unkindness is not the issue. He is your husband's son by another woman, surely you can see how his being here undermines and demeans your position as Prince Eugene's lawful wife."

"I'm afraid you'll have to educate me, Augustina," Cinderella said, making it clear – or at least intending to make it clear – that she did not actually desire to be educated upon this point. "Because I don't see it at all."

"If illegitimate children are to be treated just the same as the legitimate then what price marriage?" Serena demanded. "Will Prince Eugene make this brat his heir, and leave him the kingdom ahead of your own legitimate issue? Are we to suffer such as him upon the throne?"

"He's a boy," Cinderella said. "An innocent boy, no more, no less. The way you talk about him makes him seem monstrous, but he is just a boy."

"But not your boy," said Grace. "Cinderella, don't you care at all for your future children?"

"Of course I do, but-"

"Don't you have any pride?" Serena asked.

"Serena-"

"By what right," Augustina demanded. "Should the child of some-"

"That's enough, all of you!" Cinderella snapped, and she was a little surprised to hear her voice rise to match the anger that she felt towards them at this moment. How could they speak like this? How could they be so devoid of compassion? "Quiet, please. You appear to have misunderstood, neither Prince Eugene nor myself are asking your permission, this has already been done. I…I'm shocked that you would react this way. If you…if you cannot find within yourselves enough compassion to treat this child with kindness and respect then I shall be very disappointed in all of you." She took a deep breath. "I _am_ very disappointed in you."

Augustina's eyebrow was cocked inquisitively. Grace's face was pale. Serena's visage was a frozen mask. Marinette looked desperate to be somewhere else. Only Angelique did not look frightened, rather…she looked approving.

Cinderella bowed her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout. This has been a trying time."

"We know," Serena murmured. "That's why we…Cinderella, are you certain of this?"

"What I think really doesn't matter," Cinderella said. "But for what it's worth, I think the right decision has been made."

"He isn't your son," Serena said.

"I know," Cinderella murmured. _And I was not Lady Tremaine's daughter, but she should have loved me all the same, no matter how much of a spoiled brat I was._ "But I don't happen to think that matters as much as you seem to."

Serena smiled. "You have a good heart, Cinderella. Full of kindness and generosity. But…we're just trying to look out for your best interests."

"I know," Cinderella repeated. "And I thank you for that, but in this case…in this case I am sure that what is being done is for the best, for those who need it most. Now, of course you're all invited to the reception in Philippe's honour tonight and, well, I'm sure there will be others who think as you do. If you could all remember what I've said, and set a good example in accepting him with open arms and open hearts, I would very much appreciate it."

Grace bowed her head. "We will do everything we can to lead opinion in the right direction."

"Thank you," Cinderella said. "Thank you all."

"Um, Cinderella?" Marinette ventured tentatively.

"Yes, Marinette."

"Is this…is this where the rumours about my brother Etienne came from?"

"Yes," Cinderella replied. "Regardless of the fact that I don't agree with the decision, I have to agree that Colonel Gerard did something very selfless for the sake of Prince Eugene."

The slightest of smiles blossomed across Marinette's face like the petals of a flower beginning to open before the rays of the sun. "Would it be terrible if I was pleased to be right? I said all along that my brother wouldn't do such a thing."

"No, but Prince Eugene did," Serena muttered.

Marinette flinched. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright," Cinderella said calmly. "I'm not upset about what Eugene did before he ever knew that I existed. It was only the secrecy that upset me, and how he reacted to my finding out the secret. You were absolutely right, Marinette, your brother did not behave in the manner that he was accused of. And now, I think we had all best start getting ready, there isn't really much time left before the reception starts." She reached for the bell-pull, to summon Constance to draw her a bath.

* * *

Behind the red velvet curtain, in a room that was a little too dark all things considered – largely due to the aforementioned curtain – Cinderella knelt down in front of Philippe, resting her elbows on her knees. "How are you feeling, young man?"

Philippe stared at her for a moment, and then he looked away, and down at his feet.

Cinderella tilted her head slightly to one side. "Are you nervous?"

Philippe nodded wordlessly.

Cinderella smiled at him. "Here, that tie is a little crooked." She reached out and straightened the tie on the rather adorable little suit that Philippe was wearing for the occasion. "Do you want me to tell you a secret?"

Philippe's eyes lit up as he looked at her.

"I'm nervous too," Cinderella said. "All the time. But maybe, if I had somebody who could be brave for me, I could be brave too. Do you think you could be that somebody? Do you think you could be brave for me?"

Philippe nodded briskly, and stood to something approaching attention.

Cinderella giggled. "Oh, well how can I be afraid of anything now?" she kissed him on the cheeks. "Brave boy." She gathered up her skirts as she stood up, before letting them fall to the ground once more.

"You're very good, he likes you," Eugene murmured. "I can tell."

"My secret is that I was once a child myself," Cinderella replied.

Eugene snorted. "That doesn't seem to help me so much."

"You've barely begun; don't be so hard on yourself."

"I thought," Eugene hesitated for a moment. "I thought he would have more of his mother in him."

"Etienne never told you that he was your image?"

"He did, I just didn't believe him," Eugene admitted. "I thought he was exaggerating. I couldn't believe that Katherine's son would have so little of Katherine in him."

"I'm sure that he has plenty of his mother in him," Cinderella said. She placed a gloved hand upon Eugene's heart. "But it's all in here."

Eugene took her hand in his grasp. "I can't believe I almost drove you away."

"Almost," Cinderella murmured. "But not quite. I'm still here."

"Thank God," Eugene said. "Is everything gone? Must it all be built anew?"

"No," Cinderella said softly, her voice a caress. "Damaged, some things; all of it in need of repair. Nothing was destroyed."

Eugene looked relieved to hear it, he closed his eyes and it almost looked as though he was praying. "You look beautiful," he said.

Cinderella smiled. "I tried not to look like I was trying to draw attention to myself, and overshadow Philippe."

"I think you've struck the balance just right," Eugene replied.

Cinderella's dress was royal blue, stitched with diamonds along the swooping neckline and the upper part of the skirt, and sparkling in the light of the few candles that illuminated their hemmed off annex with liberally sprinkled diamond dust. A sash of darker blue was wrapped tight around her waist, though somewhat unusually for Cinderella's sashes it was adorned by not a single bow in sight. Her sleeves came down to just below her elbows, trimmed with dark blue scrollwork, and her hands were embraced by a pair of light blue gloves. Her arms, that space between the wrist and almost-elbow that could be seen, were embraced by no bracelets but only by a corsage of six yellow roses tied around her left arm by pink silk ribbons. Around her neck was fastened a blue choker, decorated with wavy scrollwork, from which hung a large round sapphire set in gold. Upon her ears Cinderella wore her diamond earrings, and her hair was swept up in the elegant twist that she commonly wore for balls and social functions. She wore no hairband, but only a tiara of elegantly and curvingly worked silver with a handful of glimmering diamonds set in it.

The trumpets sounded a fanfare, and the orchestra began to play.

"About time," His Majesty grumbled. "Is everyone ready?"

"Are you ready?" Eugene asked.

"Yes," Cinderella said. "Are you?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but there's no getting away from it now," Eugene muttered.

"Places, everyone!" hissed His Majesty.

They took their assigned positions. Cinderella was on the extreme left, holding Eugene's hand. Eugene, beside her, held not only her hand but also one hand of Philippe, while His Majesty upon the right held the other.

Cinderella leaned forward a little, so that she could see Philippe past Eugene. "Be brave," she whispered.

"I will," he whispered back.

The curtain parted, and the four of them emerged onto the royal dais into the sight of all the court, a glittering assembly of lords and gentlemen in frock coats and uniforms, and all the elegant ladies in their shimmering gowns.

The presence at the back of the room of a few gentlemen of the press – Cinderella caught sight of Monsieur Valis of the _Gazette_ amongst them – looked noticeably more scruffy and impoverished than the notables closer to the front, seemed a little out of place amongst the others, but Cinderella supposed that His Majesty wanted the whole kingdom to bear witness to this.

There was some polite applause, and a cry of 'God save the King! Long live the King!' emerged from out of the crowd as the royal family made their way to the front of the dais, though stopping a good five paces or more away from it. The music died, the applause died, and the whole assembly waited upon the word of the King.

His Majesty let go of Philippe's hand for a moment, to stride forward closer to the edge of the dais.

"My lords, ladies, gentlemen," His Majesty declared. "My friends and my loyal subjects be all present and recognise my grandson, Philippe Clairval, who is this very day and by these letters created Duke of Morlaix."

The King half turned, and looked to Philippe. Eugene let go of his son's hand. Philippe looked to Cinderella, who nodded encouragingly.

"Go on," she mouthed.

Philippe smiled at her, and half walked, half run to the front of the dais, where he bowed to the assembly with as much dignity as a boy barely more than a toddler could muster.

And the assembly received him in silence. Not a word was spoken. Not a person moved. Nobody cheered, nobody applauded. Philippe waited, unsure of what he was supposed to do next, as the cold eyes of the court fell upon him and did not give him respite.

Cinderella started to clap. It seemed the least she could do, because Philippe must be terribly embarrassed up there in the silence, and if he knew what the silence meant…it was the least she could do to start applauding.

The sound of Cinderella's hands clapping together echoed as lonely as the proverbial cloud in the grand throne room, before Eugene joined her. Jean and Angelique followed suit, the latter looking as though the fact that no one else had as yet begun was spurring her on rather than putting her off. Marinette, and a moment later Lucien, took up the applause, followed by Serena and her brother Anatole, then Grace, then Augustina. And then, under the watchful and somewhat frosty eye of His Majesty, applause for the young boy swept through the room from the front right back to the press men at the back who did not take part but dutifully recorded everything.

Philippe bowed again, before he turned back to his father and Cinderella with a bright smile upon his face.

 _Long may you keep smiling_ , Cinderella thought, as Philippe ran back to Eugene and his grandfather and the applause began to die down again.

* * *

This event was a reception, not a ball, which meant that there was no dancing, just a lot of people milling around, talking, conducting the social business of politics.

Which was all to the good as far as Serena was concerned, because it meant that she could spend the entire evening talking to her brother without anyone asking either of them to dance or anything annoying like that.

"Where's Lucien?" she asked, as she craned her neck a little to see over the heads of the crowd. "I thought I saw him earlier but he seems to have disappeared."

"He left," Anatole said. "He said he couldn't stand to see Cinderella with other people, and be unable to steal her attention even for a single dance. He had to leave before he exploded with jealousy."

"Jealousy?" Serena replied. "He stalks a married woman like a hunter stalks a deer through the thicket and he talks of jealousy?"

"He's in love, the poor fool," Anatole said. "I almost feel sorry for him."

"Not sorry enough not to go through with our plan?"

Anatole smirked. "Well of course I'm not that sorry for him."

Serena chuckled. "Of course not. I should have known better. Does he think that she loves him?"

"He says that she has told him so with her glances," Anatole declared, drawing out each word and savouring it like a fine meat.

"Why hasn't she told him with words, does he have an explanation for that?"

"Sometimes he talks as though she is afraid of her husband, and living in fear of his power," Anatole said. "That guard of hers, and the common girl you aren't fond of, Lucien says that they are the prince's creatures set to act as Cinderella's gaolers."

Serena let out such a bark of laughter than a few nearby people stared. "The prince's…those two gutter rats would crawl through fire and water for Cinderella if she asked them too. Does Lucien really believe all that rot?"

"I don't really think so," Anatole said. "But I think he wants to believe it, because it makes him the hero…and it explains why lovely Cinderella's only reply to his letters was to tell him to leave off writing to her."

"Is he ever going to do anything more substantial?" Serena asked. "Receiving letters is nothing to accuse a princess of."

"Speaking of which, how is our beloved princess?" Anatole said.

"She's getting more assertive," Serena growled. "We may need to act more swiftly."

"I thought you said she was an insipid milksop?"

"She was an insipid milksop, but she is becoming less so," Serena replied. "The crown on her head is causing it to swell. She had the nerve to shout at us this evening."

"What had you done?"

"Told her the truth," Serena said. "That having that boy in the palace demeans and insults her."

Anatole pulled two cigars from out of his coat pocket, and offered her one. When Serena shook her head, Anatole put one back and cut the other. "Was that the truth?"

"It is the useful truth," Serena said. "Cinderella may have forgiven him, but there is lingering bad blood between her and the prince over this business. I've been trying to use that fissure to drive wedges between them, but I'm not sure how much success I've actually had at it."

"I thought you needed to isolate her first."

"I'm not sure that there's time for that," Serena said. "And I might not need to if you can get Lucien to step up his game and do something. In the current febrile atmosphere, when sons can spring up out of the ground, who knows what reports might be believed of Cinderella's conduct."

"Does the boy change anything?"

"No," Serena said. "This isn't about him." _This is about power, and patronage and position. This is about the dignity of our house, and Cinderella usurping the place that should have been mine._ "Child or no we are lumbered with an unworthy princess, promised a future ruled by an unworthy queen, and we have a duty as loyal sons and daughters of Armorique to prevent that future from coming to pass."

Anatole nodded. "I'll speak to Lucien, and urge him to some more substantial action, something that might actually incriminate Princess Cinderella."

"Do that, and make haste about it," Serena said. "Because we may be running out of time."

* * *

"Oh, where are my sons?" Maman wailed theatrically, as she clutched her shawl about her and leaned upon her walking cane with the other. "Oh, I am abandoned and bereft before this whole assembly, oh, the shame!"

"I'm still here, Maman," Marinette murmured, as she stood by her mother's side, shoulders slightly hunched and head slightly bowed, waiting in case her mother needed anything; needed anything else, rather, having already sent Marinette out on three errands of various importance so far tonight.

"Of course you are, dear, for whatever it matters, but my sons, my sons! Where is Etienne? Has he so little care for the reputation of our family that he will not even show himself?"

"Um, I'm sure he's probably very busy, Maman," Marinette said softly. The truth was that Etienne – who already knew exactly what was going to be announced at this assembly – had decided to spend the night with his fiancée instead. She couldn't blame him for that, but she did feel a little irked about having to lie to mother about it for him, just because he hadn't told her – had not, indeed, told anyone aside from Marinette herself, as far as she knew – about his engagement. Yes, Maman would have a fit when he finally did tell her, but he'd have to get it over with eventually, wouldn't he? Marinette couldn't see Lucrecia agreeing to run away with him in secret, she had too much invested in her shop.

"Busy?" Maman sniffed. "Busy disgracing himself, perhaps. And Lucien? Where is Lucien, my good boy, my handsome boy? Where is the son I can be proud of, where is he?"

"He was here, but I can't see him any more."

"Oh, perhaps he had to leave to attend to some business," Maman said. "Such a bright boy, he has so many prospects. If only my other children could be so attentive to the needs of the family."

Marinette closed her eyes and waited in silence for the rebuke to fall upon her.

"You Marinette!" Maman said, not disappointing her daughter's expectations. "One whole month in the princess' service and you have not yet achieved one single thing! No position, no office, nor even any money to pay off your late father's debts! What are you doing, girl?"

"I'm serving the princess, Maman," Marinette said softly. "That's my job."

The truth was…the truth was that she probably could have gotten money out of Cinderella, if only she had been willing to ask for it; but paradoxically that fact and the ease with which it might be done made Marinette feel somewhat reluctant to actually ask. She loved Lucien, but when she saw the way in which he got money out of Cinderella as though she were is bank it…it made her feel dirty somehow. She was so kind and friendly, and she gave away money almost as freely as she gave away affection and when it came to it she would probably give away favours just as freely because she was kind, and friendly and sweet natured and because of that…Marinette didn't want to take advantage of her. She didn't want to be like she feared Grace and Serena were, false friends hiding their feelings behind smiling masks; she didn't want to be like all of Father's friends, sucking him dry and then abandoning him once there was no nectar left to extract. She had told Angelique that Serena and Grace reminded her of those same friends, but she hadn't said that Cinderella sometimes reminded her of her father, a man so generous that he had bankrupted his family on gifts and parties and lavish entertainments until he had been forced to speculate with what remained in the hopes of a grand return which had, unfortunately, cost him all that remained.

Fortunately Cinderella could never lose everything the way Marinette's father had – her husband, the prince, would never allow it – but she saw the same abundance of generosity that had turned a virtue to a fault in Cinderella, and seeing that…she couldn't quite bring herself to take advantage of it.

"You're not here to serve the princess, you're here to help the family!" cried Maman, as though that should have been obvious. "Have you even broached the subject with her?"

"No, Maman."

"Why on earth not, girl?" Maman demanded. "You mustn't be tongue-tied when our fortunes are at stake! I would show you how it's done but…the princess seems to have disappeared as well."

Marinette didn't say so, but she was secretly rather glad of the fact.

* * *

Cinderella had tried to bear up under it but it was getting rather difficult by now.

At first it had seemed misguided but harmlessly meant, to her at least. As she mingled in the room, whenever she was out of earshot of His Majesty or Eugene, some Lord or lady would approach her and tell her how sorry they were, how upset she must be, how brave she was to bear up under it like she was.

The reactions of Cinderella's ladies-in-waiting, much as had disapproved of them, had led Cinderella to expect something like this and so she had smiled, and explained that she didn't feel insulted or demeaned in any way and that she hoped Philippe was very happy here.

But it didn't stop people from coming up to tell her how sorry they were.

It only got worse after Philippe was taken to bed, and the King retired also. People felt able to speak more freely and most of what they seemed to have to say - to Cinderella at least- was about how terrible it was for her.

Or at least that was what they seemed to be saying. At about the time that Hortense Villeneuve, who had been sneeringly unkind to Cinderella the last time they had met, before the wedding, told her with a smirk on her face that she hoped Cinderella didn't feel too humiliated by all this, Cinderella realised what was really going on.

It didn't matter if Cinderella felt humiliated. It didn't matter how she felt about Philippe. None of these people who affected to be oh so solicitors of Cinderella's feelings cared a whit about Philippe unless they felt the kind of vague disapproval on principle articulated by Augustina. What mattered was that they considered Cinderella to have been humiliated, and so in their eyes she was. In their eyes she was diminished and demeaned

When they asked her how was she was doing, they were really just making sure she knew: we're all laughing at you, and there is nothing you can do about it.

It was at times like these, as awful as it was to think so, that Cinderella almost hated her new life.

She felt as though, having wanted to marry a man, she had married a crown instead and been give as a wedding present the task of putting up with a whole host of snobs who hated her for nothing she had done but simply for what she was. She hated to sound spoiled and ungrateful for everything she had, and ordinarily the good outweighed the bad but now...on top of Theodora and then Eugene and everything it was all getting so much...Cinderella felt as though she was drowning in their condescension, being smothered under the blanket of their disdain and she couldn't stand it. She had to get out.

Cinderella tried to keep a dignified expression on her face as she left the room, she tried to keep her back straight and her head high so that none of these people could see that they had hurt her...for whatever it was worth. If anyone saw her go they must surely know that she was retreating from their insults, and that they had won.

She made her way outside, to where the cold night air strikes her face the way Eugene was wont to do when...when she let him. Cinderella's heels clicked on the paving stones as she walked over to the fountain. She looked down into her reflection in the water, recalling the night of that magical ball when Eugene had led her here. She had been so happy then, and now...

A tear fell from her eye and ran down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, before it could ruin her blush, but it was soon joined by a twin, and then another.

" Cinderella?"

Cinderella turned at the sound of Eugene's voice. He was coming towards her, and in the moonlight his white shirt seemed to shine against the darkness of his jacket.

"I was looking for you, what-" he must have seen her tears, because he stopped. "What's the matter?"

Cinderella wiped at her eyes with one hand. "Nothing," she said. "I'm just being silly."

Eugene walked towards her. He was so close he could have reached out and touched her if he had wished. "What's wrong? Tell me, please."

Cinderella opened her mouth to dismiss his concern, but instead of words only a wordless sob emerged and then Eugene was holding her in his arms and Cinderella was leaning her head upon his chest and-

"Ouch," Eugene exclaimed.

" What's wrong?" Cinderella asked.

"Your tiara nearly poked my eye out," Eugene said.

Cinderella looked up at him. Then she covered her mouth as a giggle emerged.

Eugene grinned as he lifted the tiara off the head and placed it on the side of the fountain.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, as he placed his hands upon her arms.

Cinderella looked up into his eyes. "If I told you that there were times when I wish you were not a Prince, would you understand?"

Eugene hugged her, and held her tight. "I understand. I wish there was something I could do besides tell you not to let them get to you. I'm sorry that you have to go through this."

"It isn't your fault," Cinderella whispered. "It's just...so much has happened, and..."

"I know, and I'm sorry for my part in it," Eugene said. "Some times...there are times when I feel so guilty...I married you, and all I've done is make you sad and put you in danger."

Cinderella squeezed his shoulder. "You've also made me the happiest that I've ever been. Don't forget that. Eugene?"

"Yes?"

"Don't let go," Cinderella whispered. "Not for a while, anyway."

"I won't," Eugene said. "I promise."

Cinderella smiled, and closed her eyes, and placed both hands upon his shoulders as she felt both his arms around her waist. Yes, he sometimes made mistakes, said things he did not mean, did things he should not have done but...but none of that really mattered so long as he cared for her and, in caring, tried to make amends for the mistakes he made. He cared for, as she cared for him, and she felt safe in that. Safe, and happy.

And so, loving and beloved, they held each other as the moonlight shone down upon them.

* * *

 _Author's Note: This chapter, with hindsight, should probably have been included in the last one rather than split up. The reason it was split up was that originally it was going to include another attack on Cinderella, but I like the more gentle, less eventful ending because this is the sort of halfway point in the story. Going forward, the status quo will shuffle sideways a little and a lot of the subplots will start climaxing and concluding._


	27. Family

Family

A pair of beautiful crystal butterflies sat upon the red velvet interior of the box. Each was almost as long as Cinderella's hand, and half against as wide at least. They glimmered in the sunlight that filled the room, sparkling along the circles that, had this been a real butterfly, would have given it one of the most splendid patterns of all upon its wings.

The craftsmanship was exquisite, every detail looked so fine, the overall effect looked so delicate…they were truly lovely.

Cinderella's lithe fingers brushed the cold surface of one of the sparkling butterflies. "They're beautiful," she murmured. She looked up at Eugene, standing beside her and somewhat over her as she sat at her dressing table with the butterflies in their open box before her. "But I can't accept them."

"Why on earth not?"

"Because…" Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "Because I don't want you to think that giving me exquisite gifts is the way to make things better between us."

"That's not why I got these for you," Eugene protested.

Cinderella looked at him with undisguised scepticism.

"Well…perhaps it was, a little," Eugene confessed, looking like a naughty schoolboy caught aiming his catapult at the headmaster. "But I wasn't expecting this to drive out the memory of what I've done, I don't think you're that…I don't think you're like that. I just…I suppose I hoped it would put you in a good mood towards me."

Cinderella got up from her stool and place one hand upon Eugene's shoulders, all the while affixing him with her gaze. "I don't need you to give me presents. I just need you to be honest with me from now on, and treat me…better, than you sometimes have."

"I know," Eugene murmured. "But…please take them anyway. You deserve something, after everything I've put you to."

Cinderella hesitated.

"Please," Eugene said. "You might as well. I know I've got no right to say this, but please take them as a favour to me."

Cinderella reached out and shut the box with her free hand. "Very well. They are lovely."

"I'm glad you like them."

"Just so long as you remember that there are other things that I would like much more," Cinderella said pointedly.

Eugene bowed his head. "I know. And believe me, I have no intention of keeping anything from me ever again…but I am afraid that my actions may not always match my intent. They've fallen short before."

"So long as you try, that's all I ask," Cinderella replied. "And now, you should probably leave me to get ready or we shall be late."

Eugene nodded, but made no move to leave her chambers. "Thank you so much, for coming."

Cinderella let her hand fall from his shoulder as she began to turn away towards the bellpull to summon Duchamp. "Are you sure that you want me to come? I'm not going to be intruding, am I?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure if I could face this without you being there," Eugene said.

Cinderella frowned slightly. "He's your son, you ought to be able to face a picnic with him."

"I know," Eugene replied, with just a touch of terseness that seemed to be aimed more at himself than at Cinderella. "But I…I'm worried that I won't know what to say or do around him. You…you make it look so easy."

Cinderella chuckled. "Thank you, I suppose. But…I don't want to come between you, and I don't…I don't…I don't think you should hide behind me either."

She was a little worried that he would take offence at that, but it didn't seem to faze him at that. "Again, that isn't my intent, but…if my actions fall short, don't hesitate to let me know. But I still want you to come with us, I…I think, no I know that I need your help with him. And besides, this is a family outing and you are a member of my family; it would be strange if you weren't there."

"Very well then, I will come," Cinderella said. "But if you want me there then you must go and let me get dressed."

Eugene took her hands, and squeezed. "I can't believe how foolish I was. I'll see you downstairs for breakfast?"

"I'll be quick," Cinderella promised.

Eugene took his leave of her then, walking to the door and opening it up. "Ah, Lady Serena, Mademoiselle de Bois."

"Your Highness," Serena and Augustina murmured, and no sooner had Eugene left Cinderella's room that they had both walked in, both approaching Cinderella but putting a degree of distance between the two of them as they did so like a road forking into two.

"Serena, Augustina," Cinderella said amiably. "What can I do for you?"

"We need to have a word," Serena said bluntly. Too bluntly, considering that her words brought Cinderella no closer to guessing what they needed a word about than she had been when they came in.

"About what?"

"About the new Duke of Morlaix," Augustina said.

Cinderella frowned in irritation. "With respect, ladies, I thought that I had made it quite clear that I didn't want to discuss this."

"You did," Augustina allowed. "But we hoped that the events of last night might have changed your mind."

Cinderella glanced from one to the other and then back again. "So, you both know then."

"That you were humiliated last night?" Serena said. "Darling, I'm afraid that everyone knows." She crossed the floor to stand by Cinderella's side, linking arms with the princess. "And we're so sorry that you had to suffer through that, believe me, nobody is more sorry for what you've endured than I am. But you must see by now that you brought your humiliated on yourself by-"

"By what, Serena?" Cinderella demanded. "By refusing to be cruel to a motherless boy? By refusing to abide by a situation in which a child was kept hidden, isolated, alone? What should I have done, Serena? What cruelty should I inflict upon Philippe in order to gain the approval of women like Hortense Villeneuve?"

Serena let go of Cinderella's arm as she retreated back a pace. "Frankly, Cinderella, you're becoming a bit of a snapping crab. I don't appreciate the way that you're speaking to me right now."

Cinderella's eyes widened. "I...I'm so sorry, Serena. Please forgive me. I...really am sorry, I never meant to...it's just that...whenever I look at Philippe, I suppose that I see myself." _I will not treat him the way that my stepmother treated me. I will give him a mother's care, even if I cannot give him a mother's love._

"I suspect that that's the problem," Augustina said. "Without at all wishing to defend what your Stepmother and stepsister's did to you...from a rational perspective it wasn't really wrong."

Cinderella's eyes narrowed a little. "Without intending offence, Augustina, that sounds an awful lot like defending what my stepmother and stepsisters did to me."

Augustina cringed. "I just meant...look, I have a stepmother myself. My mother died when I was...very young. My father remarried in the hope that his second wife would give him sons. Perhaps, if things had been different...I would have suffered your fate."

"Your stepmother didn't love you?" Cinderella asked.

"No, God no," Augustina said. "We can't stand one another. I'm not particularly fond of my stepbrother either. You'll never hear me advising you to grant him any patronage or preferment. And that's the point really. Since you become a princess what have you done to benefit your stepmother or her daughters in any way."

Cinderella allowed her silence to speak for her in that regard. To be honest with herself, she had been troubled by the pin pricks of guilt over the indifference with which she had treated the Tremaine family. Since Jean and Angelique had come into her life, she become conscious of how much worse she might have suffered at the hands of the world once her father died than had actually been her fate. She had not been cast out into the wind and rain, forced to beg or steal for a crust of bread to fill her growling stomach. She had possessed food to eat and a roof above her head, and she supposed that she ought to be grateful for that. But she was too proud, too...too angry, wrong though it was of her to feel that way, the hurt of what they had done was still to raw and the resentment of it too close to her surface for Cinderella to be able to go to her stepmother and thank her for the loss of all her pretty things, for the stripping away of her room and clothes and toys and all her luxuries, for dressing her in rags and reducing her to servile obedience. True though it was, it rankled too much with Cinderella for her to thank her stepmother for treating her badly simply because she could have used her worse.

All of which meant that when she finally spoke her voice a held a touch of the defensive about it. "I might have treated them better if they had done likewise when I lived with them."

"When a lion takes over a pride, he kills all of his predecessor's cubs," Augustina declared. "From that standpoint, forced servitude is practically civilised."

Cinderella shook her head. _Lions now?_ "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Augustina. What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that it's the way of the world for stepmothers to treat their stepchildren poorly, and there are valid reasons why the world is in such a place," Augustina declared. "There is no advantage in doing things any other way."

"So you're telling me that I should make Philippe my servant?"

"No, of course not," Augustina said. "I doubt you'd get away with that. No, I just meant that you should take a stern line with him. Be cold to him, and encourage others to do the same. Speak harshly with him, turn your back on him, make sure he knows that he is not your son, and never will be. Ensure he knows his place compared to your own children. He'll have every luxury and comfort growing up in the palace can provide, he doesn't need maternal affection on top of that."

"My father would have disagreed with you," Cinderella murmured. "And so do I, for that matter. I'm truly sorry that your stepmother was as cold and cruel as mine, but I don't accept that it has to be that way and I'm not going to pass that cruelty on to Philippe."

"Showering him with kindness might make him smile, but it won't win you any plaudits from those whose opinion really matters," Augustina said warily.

Cinderella sighed. "I'm beginning to feel like it's not worth caring what people think of me."

"The only people who say things like that are those who know that nobody has any respect for them," Serena said. "Cinderella, you're not quite there yet but that is precisely where you will fall too unless you change your ways, not just regarding Philippe but in many other respects also."

"I cannot do as you ask," Cinderella replied. "I will not."

Serena bowed her head. "Very well. Of course, you've no obligation to accept our advice."

"But we are trying to help," Augustina said. "You cannot flout all norms without consequence."

"I'm sure you're right," Cinderella said. "But...this is one decision I couldn't change if I wanted to. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really should start getting ready."

They curtsied themselves out, and Cinderella was left alone.

Where they right, she wondered to herself as she undid the braids in which she kept her hair at night. Not about how she ought to treat Philippe, Cinderella did not - could not - consider for even a moment that they were right about that, but about the rest? Had she earned the low opinion in which she rested in the eyes of the court by her behaviour? Did she need to adjust herself in order to fit her station? Perhaps. Cinderella wouldn't have found it at all hard to believe that she was doing it wrong, making all manner of mistakes, flouting traditions. She would speak to Eugene about, and see what he thought.

There were some things that Cinderella would not do and would not sacrifice in order to gain the good opinion of those who had hitherto been hostile to her: she would not turn her back on Philippe, as Augustina urged her to do; she would not abandon Angelique or Jean; she would not change her principles. But if there things that she could change, or lose, or just stop doing, then she would alter them for the sake of better fitting the proper role and duties of a princess, and of not embarrassing Eugene in front of his lords and courtiers.

Cinderella rang for Duchamp, who shortly thereafter appeared, climbing the stairs with a deliberate steadiness. "Good morning, ma'am. You appear to have summoned me a little later than usual."

"Yes," Cinderella agreed. "Eugene came to visit me early, and afterwards Serena and Augustina wanted to have a word."

"Upon the subject of the young duke, ma'am, I would surmise," Duchamp said.

"Yes," Cinderella said. "How did you know?"

"The talk is of little else at present, ma'am."

"I see," Cinderella murmured. "Everyone seems to think that I'm humiliating myself. Or at least...people seem to be using it to humiliate me, and then I'm told I've brought it on myself." She turned away, but then glanced back towards her maid. "Do you think that I've humiliated myself?"

"It isn't my place to speak of such things, ma'am," Duchamp said.

"Perhaps not," Cinderella replied. "But I'd like you to say something, if you don't mind."

Duchamp blinked. "I think that any humiliation you have suffered, ma'am, was done to you by his highness, not inflicted on yourself. I cannot speak to the opinions of the nobility, but below stairs you are regarded fondly. Now, shall I bring up the water?"

As Duchamp obviously wanted to get off the subject, Cinderella didn't force her to remain. "Of course, Duchamp, that would be very kind of you."

Cinderella washed with the help of Duchamp, and with the help of Duchamp she then proceeded to dress. After some deliberation, Cinderella ended up choosing to wear the same dress she had worn the last time that she and Eugene had gone on a picnic together, just before the wedding: the white dress, with a ruffled collar trimmed with blue, and an equally blue sash tied around her waist. It seemed...appropriate, considering that they stood now much as they had stood then: in love but not wholly in trust, a little uncertain of one another, but willing to overcome that uncertainty and reach once more a place of understanding. Cinderella wore around her neck the same necklace that Eugene had given her that day, the pearls that entwined around her throat and the sapphire heart that dangled from them, just as she wore clasped around her wrist the same diamonds that he had given her on that day too, although descending towards her elbow she followed those small diamonds with more bracelets of diamond the sapphire, the rich blue sapphires breaking up the sparkling diamonds, until almost half her forearm was covered in glimmering finery. On her other arm it was the turn of pearls to creep down from her wrist in bracelets one, two, three or four strands wide.

Duchamp bound Cinderella's hair up negligently in pearls, so that strawberry locks fell in artfully deliberate error down to her shoulders, and pinned the crystal butterflies Eugene had given Cinderella upon either side of her head, above and just behind ears half-hidden behind large diamond earrings.

Thus attired, and thus adorned, Cinderella pulled on her gloves and slipped her rings - not only her sacramental rings, but a silver ring with a diamond set on it upon the finger of her other hand - upon her fingers, and went down to breakfast.

Cinderella descended the stairs, lifting her dress up with one hand, to find Eugene waiting for her just one landing down.

"Have you been here all the time?" Cinderella asked. "I haven't kept you waiting too long, have I?"

"You're worth the wait, I assure you," Eugene said. "Besides, it feels like it's been too long since I escorted you down from your room. Will you take my hand?"

Cinderella smiled slightly, as she placed her hand into his offered palm and felt his fingers close around it.

"What did your ladies want with you, so early in the morning?" Eugene asked.

Cinderella's smile faded. "They...they wanted to talk to me about Philippe," she admitted. "I...I don't want you to think too badly of them, but...they say that I should be unkind to him. They tell me that his being here undermines me, and that my showing kindness to him makes it worse." She turned her eyes away from Eugene for a moment. "I know that they're both much cleverer and more experienced than I am but I've no intention of taking their advice this time."

"I didn't think you would, and I'm grateful for that," Eugene said. "And I'm also...it's a monstrous double standard: I have a son and it is proof of my virility while at the same becoming a stick to beat you with. I'm sorry."

"It isn't your fault."

"Well..."

Cinderella chuckled as she realised what she had said, letting go of her skirt for a moment as she covered her mouth with her free hand. "I meant that...I think it would have turned out this way no matter when the truth came out, even if you'd told me everything when we first got engaged. Serena and Augustina mean well, but I don't think it's really about Philippe." _It's about me being a scullery maid._

Eugene said, "You're wiser than you give yourself credit for."

Cinderella looked ahead of her, gazing down the stairs that they descended. "Do you think...do I..."

"Cinderella?"

"Do you think that I need to change?" Cinderella asked. "The way that I am, or the way that I behave? Do I behave improperly? Do I embarrass you?"

"No!" Eugene exclaimed. "God no. Yes, it's true that you sometimes do things that I don't expect, or that I don't understand why you do it, but that doesn't mean that you need to become something else. You're perfect the way you are."

Cinderella bowed her head as she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. "Duchamp tells me that I'm too trusting."

"You are a little naive at times," Eugene admitted. "But I would much rather that than have you be cynical and bitter."

They continued down the many staircases that led from Cinderella's tower suite. As they neared the bottom, Eugene let out a great leonine yawn that he only just covered up with his hand.

"Did you not sleep well?" Cinderella asked. Eugene had not joined her in her bed since they had had their falling out over his omissions, at first because...well, because they had had a falling out, and now...Cinderella had not asked him why but she guessed it was because he feared she would not want him there. It was the same reason that he had not tried to kiss her since she had turned her cheek to him the day before yesterday. Did she want him to rejoin her in her bed? Did she want him to kiss her? Would she turn her cheek again if he attempted it? She didn't know. There was a part of her that wanted to feel his lips against hers, wanted to feel his hand stroking her cheek, wanted to feel his arms around her as he moved in her...but there was also a part of her that had not quite reached that point just yet.

"I was up late working."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, it-" Eugene stopped himself.

Cinderella looked at him. This felt like a first test of his resolve to treat her differently - better in some regards, with a greater honesty and a trust that she didn't need to be coddled and hidden away from the more practical aspects of his life and responsibilities - than he had done before; a test of his ability to match with actions the promises he had made when he had come to her room and apologised for his prior mistakes.

"I did warn you that there might be a gap between my intent and my actions," Eugene said, looking abashed. "It is Louisiana that troubles me at the moment."

"The colonists?" Cinderella had learned that much from her lessons in politics and history.

"Yes, the colonists, exactly," Eugene said. "Every day it seems that they grow more outspoken. Their latest petition for redress arrived recently; Father has lost all patience with them, so he asked me to write our response. I was working on it until past midnight."

"Can I be honest with you?" Cinderella asked. "I don't know all the details, but...what they're asking doesn't seem that unreasonable."

"They want to be guarded by our soldiers, at our expense, while they pay not a penny," Eugene replied. "You don't think that that's unreasonable?"

"They want a say in their own destiny," Cinderella said. "I can sympathise with that."

"Perhaps," Eugene said. "But the son owes a duty to his father, the subject owes loyalty to his king; they are still people of Armorique, and the fact that they have been transplanted to a new world does not absolve them of those responsibilities."

"What did you say to them? Can't you come to some sort of compromise?"

"We cannot bend to their demands," Eugene said. "To do so would make us look weak. It would make us weak. We could compromise, but only once they cease to agitate and spread disorder and unrest."

Cinderella pursed her lips together. She thought that Eugene was being too stubborn, that he ought to recognise that what he called their agitation was merely a sign of how earnest they were in their demands. But it was because he was being stubborn that she did not say so; she didn't want to argue with him. Especially since she was actually impressed that he had spoken to her at all.

"Thank you for being honest with me," she said.

A slight hint of laughter escaped from Eugene's lips. "It actually...it's almost a relief, to be able to get it off my chest."

Cinderella smiled. "You see what you've missed? And what you have to gain?"

"I won't make that mistake again."

Breakfast passed quietly but cordially between them, and when the meal was done they rose and together made their way to Philippe's nursery. Philippe was lodged in a spacious room halfway up the King's Tower, the better for His Majesty to visit him whenever he felt like it, with his grandmother's room across the hall. Philippe was waiting for them, dressed in a white sailor suit with short trousers and knee-high socks.

"Papa!" he cried, as he ran across the room to them, a few steps ahead of his grandmother, who followed a little more slowly.

As Philippe ran to his father, Madame Clairval came to stand in front of Cinderella. "Take care of him," she said.

"We will," Cinderella said.

"You," Esme said firmly. "You I trust."

Cinderella glanced at Eugene, who had knelt down in front of his son so that he was not towering over him. She spoke very quietly, so that Eugene would not hear. "Why?"

"Because you have a good heart," Esme said. She leaned a little closer. "And because I know that it was no one's intent that I should come here with Philippe."

Cinderella swallowed. "Whatever-"

"The haste with which they rushed to make a room up for me didn't imply preparation," Esme said cannily. Her features stretched into a smile. "You have my thanks. And my trust. Take care of him."

"You have my word," Cinderella said.

She knelt down beside Eugene. "Good morning, Philippe."

Philippe smiled at her. "Good morning, Stepmother," he said, as he reached out and tried to kiss one of her gloved hands.

"Oh, well aren't you a charming young man?" Cinderella laughed. "Are you looking forward to this?"

Philippe nodded.

"Then let's go," Eugene said, as he stood up and took his son by the hand. Philippe held out his other hand towards Cinderella, who smiled at him as she took hold of it.

The carriage was waiting for them outside, as was Colonel Gerard, who would be acting in place of any of Cinderella's usual guards - or Eugene's, for that matter - since Philippe knew him and trusted him. Though he would be their only escort, he was leading two horses: his own black and a large white stallion that Cinderella recognised from the large portrait of Eugene in the King's study.

"Everyone ready?" Etienne asked as the prince and princess helped Philippe descend the stone steps.

"Yes!" Philippe cried as he was led towards the coach.

Etienne smiled as he mounted his horse.

Philippe was not tall enough to mount the carriage unaided, and so Cinderella climbed in first before Eugene passed his son up to her. Cinderella sat down with Philippe on her lap as Eugene climbed in and sat down beside her.

"On," Eugene commanded, and the coach clattered into motion as the driver cracked the reins. As the open-topped coach rolled out through the streets and into the fields beyond, Etienne effortlessly kept pace beside them.

The coach carried them down a dirt track in the midst of farmers' fields criss-crossed by green hedgerows and covered by crops erupting from the ground. Unfortunately there were no dancing or merry-making peasants or picturesque shepherds or any of the other bucolic sights and poems and books said ought to occupy such pastoral settings, only the occasional farmer leading a powerful plough-horse down a field, or smoke rising from the chimney of a humble cottage. And then they were out of the farmland and into the true countryside, where the fields stretched out around them, disturbed by the occasional tree spreading the shadow of its broad branches all around; where a deer or two could be seen atop the rolling hills, and foxes darted through the longer grass; where forests loomed upon the horizon, and all the lands of Armorique seemed to stretch out undisturbed in all directions.

Philippe stared out at all of this with awestruck eyes.

Cinderella glanced at Eugene, who was looking at his son - at the back of his head, anyway, what with Philippe looking away from him - but said nothing.

"Is this the first time you've seen the countryside?" Cinderella asked, bending her head a little so that she was closer to level with him. "Your first time outside of the city?"

Philippe nodded.

Cinderella smiled. "It's wonderful, isn't it? Who knows what we'll see?"

"I seem to remember," Eugene said. "Etienne, didn't we use to ride out here, when we were younger."

"We used to ride everywhere when we were younger," Etienne replied. "In the fields, in the streets...in the halls."

"Yes," Eugene replied, with a little chagrin entering his voice. "But we did use to come here, I'm sure."

"I remember those fields we've just left," Etienne said. "We used to try and jump the hedgerows."

"That too," Eugene allowed. "But we used to come out looking for deer, I'm sure."

"Oh, yes, I do remember that," Etienne said.

Eugene smiled fondly for a moment, and then he said, "Philippe, have you ever ridden before?"

Philippe squirmed on Cinderella's lap as he turned around to look at his father and shake his head. "No, Papa."

"Would you like to do something about that?"

Philippe's eyes widened even further if that were possible. He nodded enthusiastically. "Yes!"

"Stop the carriage," Eugene commanded. When the coach rolled to a halt upon the dirt track, Eugene leapt down and, while Cinderella climbed down more slowly with Philippe, mounted the white horse that Etienne had led out with them.

"Be careful, both of you," Cinderella said as she picked up Philippe and lifted him up. She remembered that she had promised Esme that she would look after Philippe, and she also remembered how she had managed to injure herself when trying to ride. But as a girl she had managed to ride a pony without incident, and Eugene was a skilled rider, so they should both be alright provided that Eugene didn't do anything too foolish.

Eugene lifted Philippe up and plonked him down in front of him, wrapping around arm around the boy while he held the reins in the other. "Don't worry, everything will be fine. More than fine, it will be fun."

Philippe grinned in anticipation.

Cinderella herself smiled as she took a step back out of the way of the horse. _Well done, Eugene._

"And we're off!" Eugene cried, as he urged his horse into motion. The white stallion took off across the field, not so fast as it probably could have gone, but fast enough to make Philippe whoop with glee as the horse's hooves churned up the earth beneath them.

Etienne took the opportunity to dismount from his own steed, patting the black stallion idly on the head. "Whatever his mistakes or other faults, no one can deny that he is a superb horseman," he said.

"Oh, yes," Cinderella murmured. "Though that is one of the least of his gifts, as far as I'm concerned."

"Hmm," Etienne said. "How...forgive me princess, I should not pry."

"How are things between us?" Cinderella said. "Is that why you were going to ask?"

Etienne hesitated for a moment, before he nodded his head.

Cinderella gave a little half smile. "Better. Much better. Not entirely as they were, but that isn't completely a bad thing. Oh, that reminds me, I never congratulated you."

Etienne looked at her. "Highness?"

"On your engagement, of course!" Cinderella cried.

For a moment, Etienne looked surprised. "How did...oh, Lucrecia told you. Thank you, princess." He smiled fondly. "I consider myself most fortunate."

Cinderella's smile widened a smidge. "She's a dear, isn't she?" She was silent for a moment. "Was it supposed to be a secret?"

"Our engagement?"

"You seemed surprised I knew."

"Not a secret exactly," Etienne said. "It's just that I haven't told His Highness yet, and I'd forgotten that you knew Lucrecia. I don't know how I could forget that when that's the only reason we met, but..."

"Really?"

"I went to her to get a dress for Marinette," Etienne explained. "And I went there because I knew that you got your dresses from her, and I thought...my mother thought that it would give you and Marinette something to bond over." Etienne fell silent for a few moments. "It's strange how fate makes its purpose known, isn't it? If you hadn't chosen Lucrecia to be your dressmaker, then she and I would never have met. If Lucrecia and I had not become lovers then you and Angelique would never have cared to investigate my life and reputation; if you had not done so, then Eugene would never have bothered to know his son. It's comforting."

"Comforting?"

"To know that there's a plan for all of us, a purpose to all of this," Etienne said. "With happiness lying at the end of it."

"Are you sure of that?" Cinderella asked.

"Are we not blessed with happiness?" Etienne replied.

"Not all the time," Cinderella said.

"No," Etienne agreed. His tone became more uncertain. "In fact, I...while they're away there is something that I would like to talk to you about that is less than happy. Concerning my brother."

"Lucien? What about him?"

"You've been giving him money, haven't you?" Etienne said.

"Yes," Cinderella said, her voice even. "I have."

"Then, princess, I must ask you to stop."

Cinderella's eyebrows rose. "Stop? Why would...why are you asking me to stop?"

"Before he met you...before you were given control over your own finances by Prince Eugene, I was the one Lucien came too for money," Etienne said. "I won't pretend that I liked giving it to him, I certainly won't pretend I handed it over in good grace, but Lucien had some awareness of my limited means and was constrained by what I could physically give to him. But you have nearly unlimited wealth by comparison, and I'm worried that he is growing more lavish in his demands."

"Lucien doesn't demand anything, colonel," Cinderella said. "He asks for my help, and as his friend I help him."

Etienne clasped his hands together behind his back. He looked away, and spoke awkwardly. "I...I would hate for you to mistake my brother's affection for your wealth with affection for you personally."

"Colonel," Cinderella said, gently but firmly. "Lucien has told me that he feels you dislike him, while I've told him that he must be mistaken; I would hate for you to prove him right by maligning Lucien while his back is turned."

Etienne stared at her. "Of course. I apologise, your highness, for raising the subject."

"I'm sure that you meant well, but I'm not worried about lending a thousand pounds or so to Lucien," Cinderella said. "I sometimes wonder what I'm supposed to do with all of that money, since I have all my needs and desires catered for in the palace."

"One can't help but feel there must be better causes," Etienne muttered. "But...once again I'm sorry, princess, I will say no more."

"I hate the way that you don't seem to get on with one another at all," Cinderella said. "Is there no way for you to love each other?"

"He's my brother, princess, I'll always love him," Etienne said. "I just don't like him very much normally, that's all."

They were silent for a while, watching the distant figure of Eugene begin to grow larger again in their sight as he started to come back.

"Why haven't you told Eugene?" Cinderella asked, somewhat abruptly.

"Highness?"

"Your engagement," Cinderella explained. "You haven't told him yet. Have you told anyone?"

"I told Lucien that I was going to propose," Etienne said. His face reddened. "In fact I've no real right to complain about your gifts to him. I was only able to afford a decent ring by borrowing from the money that he got from you."

"Well, I'm glad I could be of assistance to you, if only indirectly," Cinderella said, with laughter in her voice. "Why haven't you told anyone else?"

"Because my mother won't approve," Etienne said. "She'll say that I'm marrying beneath me. She wants me to marry an heiress who can improve the fortunes of our family."

Cinderella smiled. "She may not be an heiress, but it wouldn't surprise me if Lucrecia became a very wealthy woman some day." Indeed, Lucrecia was on her way there already; she was already successful enough that she could afford to take on an apprentice. "Or is that part of the problem?"

"It would have been, at one time," Etienne admitted. "It would have shamed me, that my wife had to work to support us. Now...my pride almost cost me Lucrecia once, I won't make the same mistake again. And I would never ask Lucrecia to give up her joy and purpose."

"I'm glad you won't be robbing me of my dressmaker any time soon," Cinderella laughed. "But then-"

"Somehow I don't think that wealth grown from a small business is what my mother had in mind," Etienne said. His voice became overly, exaggeratedly haughty. "In trade, you know."

Cinderella snorted. "Please don't tell me that you're going to let something like that stop you. In a world where the prince can marry the scullery maid then what does the difference between you matter compared to the love you feel?"

"I won't let it stop me marrying her," Etienne declared. "If I was then I wouldn't have proposed, but...she is my mother, and I'd rather not row with her. I've been hoping that I could find a way to...to reconcile her to it somehow, but...so far, nothing."

"I understand, but...please don't wait too long," Cinderella urged. "For Lucrecia's sake, before she starts to wonder what's going on."

"I will," Etienne said. "I-"

Whatever else Etienne might have said, whatever else he might have been about to agree to do, was lost as Eugene and Philippe returned. Philippe was breathless with excitement, and it looked to be only that red-cheeked breathlessness that was preventing him from squealing for joy. For his part, Eugene looked well content, with a smile playing about his face.

"Again, Papa!" Philippe cried. "Again!"

"Maybe later," Eugene said, as he handed Philippe down to Etienne. "For now, maybe the princess would like a turn?"

Cinderella's hand rose to the heart-shaped sapphire around her neck. "Me?"

"Please." Eugene held out his hand to her. "If you will."

Cinderella approached cautiously, her dress and petticoats rusting around her as she approached the horse, who stood as still as stone as though he were afraid that he might alarm Cinderella by sudden movement. Cinderella regarded the horse cautiously. It seemed so high up.

"It's perfectly safe, I assure you," Eugene said softly.

Cinderella looked up at him, and then at Philippe, who was being restrained in place by a single hand of Etienne. He still looked euphoric from the experience.

 _How can I quail from something that he embraced so readily?_

"Help me be brave, Philippe," Cinderella murmured, as she climbed - with a considerable amount of help from Eugene - onto the horse. She was in front of him, her feet dangling down beside the horse, although concealed by the gown that also obscured one of Eugene's legs from view. Cinderella wrapped her arms around his waist, and rested her shoulder against his chest.

"Don't be afraid," Eugene whispered. "I've got you."

Cinderella nodded.

"Now, Scipio!" Eugene shouted, urging his stallion into motion a moment before the steed leapt forward.

Cinderella gasped as the horse quickened to the canter, and then onto the gallop. The landscape flew past her in a sea of green flowing in the opposite direction to her progress. She could hear the thump, thump, thump of the hooves of the horse going faster, faster, faster. She could feel her dress streaming out behind her, tugging on her legs and feet. There were times when she wanted to close her eyes, but the sight of the world flying away from her – or of herself flying away from the world, she and Eugene together and alone – meant that she never did. There were times when she feared that she would certainly fall, but her arms around Eugene and his arm around her waist meant that she never did. She held on to him, for dear life and safety and for the comfort of feeling her arms around him and his around her as the horse galloped on.

Eugene let out a joyous laugh as Scipio cleared a hedgerow and then came to a halt, slowing to nothing at all, snorting as he turned in place, and then bent his head to chew on some of the plentiful grass.

Cinderella found herself panting for breath, as though she were one who had just run all this way, and not the horse on whose back she sat.

"You won't get that in a carriage," Eugene said.

Cinderella smiled, still gasping. "That was quite exhilarating, I admit." _I'm not sure that I'd want to do it without you with me, though._

Eugene stared down into her eyes. Cinderella stared up into his.

One of Cinderella's hands was resting on his shoulder. Eugene placed his hand upon it.

They stared into one another's eyes, both breathing deeply.

Eugene bent his head down and kissed her, and this time Cinderella did not turn her cheek. This time she let him kiss her on the lips, and upon the tongue, and let the restraint of so many days of separation spend themselves in a single glorious moment so wonderful that when it was done her heart was pounding so loudly it might almost have burst, and Cinderella's breast was heaving up and down with breathless desire.

"I've missed you," Eugene whispered fiercely.

"I've missed you, too."

Eugene grasped her arm – she could barely feel it through the diamonds and sapphires that descended from her wrist, but she felt the force of him pulling her arm away from his shoulder so that he could take her had properly.

"I can't promise that I'll never hurt you," he said. "But I can promise that…I can promise that I…God, I don't know how to say it-"

"I understand," Cinderella murmured.

"You do?"

"Perfectly," Cinderella said. "And it's enough."

With his free hand, he reached up and stroked her face, and Cinderella allowed it. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, and with her own free hand she pressed his own hand closer, feeling his caress upon her skin.

And then they kissed for a second time.

* * *

A good time was had by all once they returned to Etienne and Philippe. The day was spent watching Eugene play with his son, which he did far better than talking to him, or talking to Philippe on behalf of Eugene, or so it seemed sometimes; admittedly Philippe wasn't a great talker himself, which was either because of his youth or because he was his father's son or both. Whichever the answer, Cinderella found that mothering him came very easily to her: wiping his face, fussing over him when he fell over, doing up his shoelaces. It was probably something to do with the mice: after spending so many years being a kind of mother to all of them, what was one small boy in comparison? It wasn't as if anyone was trying to eat him.

When they returned to the palace, His Majesty ushered them – Eugene, Cinderella and Philippe at least – into a relatively bare room, with a white-tiled floor and a few ferns in Grecian pots artfully arranged at the back. Closer to the door, a man who was unmistakably an artist had already set up his easel and canvas, and had paints ready to hand.

"Places, places everyone!" His Majesty roared. "Come on, we don't have all day left!"

"Um, Father, what is-"

"You're not dense, boy, even if you do make some poor decisions," the King snapped. "Can't you see that we're about to have our likenesses painted?"

"Well, clearly, but-"

"It is high time," His Majesty declared. "I want to commemorate this, the first of many such paintings: I want to capture an image my family, for all the years to come."

He sat down directly in front of the painter's canvas, and patted one of his knees. "Now then, young man, you come and sit here. Eugene, to my right if you please, and Cinderella if you'll stand to my left."

Cinderella curtsied. "Of course, your majesty." She glided over, as Eugene placed Philippe upon his grandfather's lap, before taking his place standing upon His Majesty's right hand, just behind the old man, with one hand resting upon his father's shoulder.

Cinderella stood on the other side of the King, and with one hand she grasped the edge of her dress, while with the other she reached out, behind His Majesty, and touched the small of Eugene's back.

She noticed that Philippe was looking all around him, as if he didn't know what was going on. Probably he did.

"Look ahead," Cinderella whispered, gesturing with a nod towards the artist.

Philippe's eyes widened a little with comprehension, and he looked straight ahead as the King gestured for the artist to begin.

 _An image of my family, for all the years to come._

 _Your family, your majesty…and mine too._

It wasn't perfect, but it was absolutely wonderful all the same. It was hers, and she loved it. For the first time in ten years, for the first time since her father left her, she had a family.

Cinderella smiled as the artist began to work.

* * *

 _Author's Note: So, I know I said no update until December, but I reached the point where I'd written a lot of NaNo words and temporarily run out of ideas, and I'd rather write something than stare at a blank screen waiting for inspiration to strike so, here we are. I hope you enjoy it.  
_

 _This wasn't the chapter that I originally intended to give you, that will come next and contain some of the changes hinted at in the end of the last chapter. But I thought that there was another chapter needed to show a point on the way from where Eugene and Cinderella are in the last chapter and where they are in the next one that I wrote previously._

 _For the crystal butterflies Eugene gives Cinderella at the beginning of this chapter, I have to credit the complete reimagining of Cinderella's dress in Sonne and Breadfly's Little Crooked Tale; check out chapter 2 page 5 if nothing else._

 _For those of you who might be tempted to censure Etienne for not having bit the bullet yet with regard to his mother: it's only been a couple of days in-story since he proposed, so his reluctance hasn't yet become inexcusable yet; he's entitled to a little time to think about how best to approach it._

 _For those of you who might be afraid that this indicates second thoughts on his part: worry not, he is fully committed to going through with this marriage, he'd just rather not fight with his mother about it if he can think of a way to get her on side (or least accepting)._


	28. The Shot Heard Round the World

_CocoRocks - well sure, you say that now, but you probably wouldn't be very impressed with me as a writer if I just stopped writing about the main villain of the story, would you?_

The Shot Heard Round the World

"Cinderella," Eugene spoke her name almost haltingly, as if he did not wish to confront what came next. "Cinderella...I have to go."

Cinderella looked up at him. They were in the garden, wandering between the rosebushes in the bright light of the sun above. Cinderella's parasol threw a film of shadow across her face and hair, even as her lacy white dress shone beneath the sunlight. Absent her parasol Cinderella might have been too blinded by the light to see Eugene's face, but now she could see how upset she looked, and she could tell that he meant much more than having to leave her side now. It was a far longer separation that he was speaking of now. "Go? Go where?"

"Louisiana," Eugene replied. He was already holding her gloved hand, he had been since they started to walk together, and he kept a firm grip on her as he turned to face her, looking down upon her parasol-shaded face. "You know about the troubles that we've been having with the colonists there?"

Cinderella nodded. In addition to her constantly progressing lessons, Eugene had started taking her far more into his confidence when it came to the affairs of state in the short time since Philippe's discovery and the strife it had briefly unleashed between them. She was much more his confidante now than she had been before (not, admittedly that that was too difficult since she had not been any sort of confidante before) as a wife should be; and so she knew that the Armorican colonists in Louisiana, which territory stretched across half of North America as it crawled up the Mississippi river, had been agitating with ever-increasing fervour for less tax - or better yet, no tax - as well as for greater power for their own assemblies over their own affairs, and less interference from Armorique. Eugene often spoke of the colonists as Armorique's unruly children, but Cinderella had the distinct impression that the colonists themselves saw Armorique not as a parent but as a wicked stepmother, heaping work and abuse upon their backs for no reward. Truthfully, not that she could ever admit this to Eugene or anyone else, she was not without sympathy for their plight, and she had hoped that some resolution might be found that gave them at least some of what they wanted.

But if Eugene had to go there himself, and with the way he seemed so unhappy about it, it seemed unlikely now that that would be the case.

"What happened?" she asked in a whisper. _Why do you have to go there…and leave me?_

"Some of our troops there marched to a town called Albany, to confiscate weapons being held there," Eugene said. "The locals fired upon them. It's war now, and reinforcements are needed urgently."

Cinderella's eyes widened. _War?_ Might it...might their separation be permanent then? Might he leave her to never return? Would she hear of his passing long after the fact, when he was buried in some foreign field? Her chest heaved; already she could feel herself panicking at the prospect. "But...but why?" she asked.

"Why what?"

"Why any of it?" Cinderella demanded, as her words began to rush out of her mouth like a torrent. "Why does there have to be a war and why do you have to go and fight in it? Why can't you compromise, or-"

"It's gone beyond that now," Eugene said, his voice kind and tender and understanding. "It went beyond that when they fired on our troops at Albany. The honour of the country is at stake."

"So for the honour of Armorique you must...leave me?" Cinderella whispered. "Must you go?"

"It is my duty to go; I cannot prance about in uniforms all day and then shrink from the first sign of real danger, can I? Would you have me be a coward?"

"I would have you be safe," Cinderella said. She could feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Is there no one else? Can nobody else-"

"Please, Cinderella," Eugene's tone was firm enough to cut her off for all that it was somewhat soft itself. "Please...don't make this harder than it already is."

Cinderella cursed herself for her self-centred foolishness. He was scared, she could see that now. He had no more experience of war than she and he was as nervous of going as she was fearful of his leaving her. The last thing he wanted, the last thing he needed, was for Cinderella to add her fears atop his own. He needed a good wife, a dutiful wife who would stiffen up his courage and wish him well as she sent him off to war.

And so that was what she would provide.

With one hand, extracted momentarily from his grasp, she wiped away the tears from her eyes and sought to control the heaving in her breast. "I understand," she said, with every ounce of calm that she could muster. "Rather, I will await your return...your triumphant return, with patience and..." _What else should I say? Should I have stopped there? With patience and...resolve?_ "Resolve."

Eugene's eyes closed for a moment. When he opened them again, he smiled. "Thank you, your strength...strengthens me. Without it, I...but I know that you will be alright without me, and that means that I can go forth with a high heart."

 _You will be alright without me._ Even if that were not true, Cinderella would not let him see otherwise. If that was what he needed to think, then that was what he would see until he left.

Cinderella straightened her back, and fought to exorcise all trace of trembling from her voice. "When do you leave?"

"In a few days, ten at most," Eugene replied. "Orders have been given to prepare and gather ships, the battalions earmarked for Louisiana are being informed, all should be in readiness soon; there is no time to waste if we are reinforce the garrison before it's too late."

"A week," Cinderella murmured. "I suppose that you'll be very busy during that time."

"Most likely, yes; there is a lot to do," Eugene said.

Cinderella bowed her head for a moment, before she looked back up into his deep brown eyes. "Then we had best make the most of the time that we can snatch together, hadn't we?"

Eugene gave a sort of half-nod of his head, and ran his fingers slowly through Cinderella's hair as though it were treacle. Abruptly, he wrapped his arms around her, and held her close, pressing her against him.

"Thank you," he whispered. "For being so strong."

With her head resting against his chest, Cinderella's face was free to look as wretchedly miserable as she felt, to display all her fears for him as he went off to war. But she revealed nothing of them in her words, or in her voice as she said, "I am your wife. Whatever you need from me, I will give to you."

* * *

Lucrecia Adessi sat down in the back room of her shop, feeling a chill upon her face that had nothing to do with the temperature of the day - it was actually quite warm, as expected for the beginning of summer - and everything to do with the news that Etienne had just delivered to her. She...she couldn't quite look at him. Instead she fondled the engagement ring on her finger. "So there's no avoiding it then?"

"No," Etienne replied. He had not sat down. Possibly he was waiting for her to chase him out of the shop in a fit of outrage, although she hoped not. Possibly he just couldn't linger. His voice was hoarse enough that she might almost believe that he was afraid to linger. "No, it cannot be avoided. My regiment has been ordered to make ready to sail, and I must go with them. And besides...I couldn't let His Highness go to war without me."

Lucrecia didn't laugh, if indeed it was intended to be funny. She looked at him now, leaning against the curtain-covered doorway that led into the shop front. There was no one there, and she had hung the 'closed' sign upon the door to ensure that they would not be disturbed. "How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know."

"How bad will it be?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know anything?" _Anything that will bring me a crumb of comfort, at least?_

Etienne looked down at her with those dark, piercing eyes of his. "I know that it cannot be avoided. I know that this may ultimately turn out to be a blessing for both of us."

"A blessing?" Lucrecia asked, not bothering to hide her incredulity from him.

"War brings glory and promotions in equal measure," Etienne declared. "If I can win renown in this conflict then-"

"Do you think that I care about renown, or glory?" Lucrecia demanded. She rose to her feet, and stalked across the room towards him. "Do you think it will comfort me to know that you died gloriously?"

"You should care about my rank," Etienne said. "A man may rise much higher, much faster in time of war than would ever be possible in peace. If I return home as General Gerard then so many of our problems will disappear like so much morning dew melting away beneath the sun."

"These problems that you speak of exist nowhere but in your own mind," Lucrecia declared. She turned away from him, clasping her hands together. "You are poor by your standards, not so much by mine; and I have money enough for both of us." The cost of one of Cinderella's gowns from her was between a week and a month's wages for an unskilled man, depending on the complexity and sophistication of the dress, and Princess Cinderella was not her only client. Materials cost - silk, tulle, lace, none of them could be called cheap - ate up some of that, but Lucrecia lived frugally within the means of what remained; she was far from impoverished.

"Call me old fashioned, but I'd rather not be wholly dependent upon my wife's income," Etienne said, a mild restatement of a discussion they had had more than once since becoming engaged. He was too poor to marry her immediately, so he said; and none of Lucrecia's declarations that she enjoyed sufficient income to assuage his poverty could move him on the point.

"I do not call you old fashioned, I call you too proud," Lucrecia replied. It was not an attractive characteristic of his nature...but without his pride he would not be Etienne Gerard and if he were not Etienne Gerard...there was no helping it really.

She could hear him approaching behind her as he said, "Would you not rather be a general's wife than a colonel's?"

"I would rather be a colonel's wife than affianced to a dead general," Lucrecia replied. "Even if the general is a hero."

She felt him place her hands around her arms. The feel of his grip was comforting, even in these circumstances. "I won't die. I guarantee it."

Lucrecia leaned back against him. "So sure of that?"

Etienne chuckled. "How could I die when I have something to come home to?"

Lucrecia rolled her eyes. "Don't be charming, it doesn't suit you." She twisted around so that she could look at him. "But you will come back, won't you?"

"Have I not sworn it?"

"Then I'll be true to you, till you return."

"And upon my return, then we'll be wed."

* * *

The drums of war were beating across Armorique; or in the palace, certainly, Angelique hadn't been out tramping across the whole country to see what it was like beyond.

She hadn't even had the chance to get out into the city around them, truth to tell. She didn't know if the army was going to be swelling up in such a way as to entice some of the older lads from the back streets to join the ranks for good meals and certain pay. She didn't know if any new men were being recruited. She didn't know if people cared about the war outside the palace walls but within the walls it seemed like everyone cared a great deal. The drums of war were beating.

It went all the way up to the very top, with His Highness Prince Eugene due to lead an army and a fleet out to Louisiana to put down those rebels all that way out there. Angelique wasn't entirely sure why they needed to be put down, or why it mattered so much to Armorique what folk all that way across the ocean did with their lives, but she supposed it had to be important if the prince was going; and all those men with him, too. That meant that Cinderella was worried, and Marinette's brother – not the slippery one who kept stealing Cinderella's money, unfortunately, but the uptight one that Jean liked – was going with him, and she was in a bit of a state over that. Augustina's father, the general, was commanding one of the brigades. One of Grace's brothers was a captain of foot. The grenadier Constance was sweet on was marching off too, and Angelique was willing to bet that she wasn't the only maid in the palace who had kissed a dashing soldier boy and promised to wait until he came back some great hero from the wars.

Which brought her back to herself, as she strode quickly through the palace corridors, ducking past servants rushing hither and thither, making all sorts of preparations, until she found Jean standing just outside his room, with his jacket undone and his shirt showing underneath.

"Jean!" Angelique called, quickening her pace across the wooden floor as he turned towards her. "There you are, I was worried I wouldn't find you."

"You found me, Angelique," Jean said, sounding a little more distant than usual. "I'm right here."

Angelique frowned, just a little. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Jean said, though he sounded just as distant as he had before.

"You've heard the news?"

"About the war? Yes," Jean replied. "I think everybody has."

"Prince Eugene is going off to fight."

"Yes, and Colonel Gerard too."

"They're not the only ones," Angelique murmured. Her mouth felt suddenly dry. _Please not him. Please not him._ Cinderella hadn't know if Jean was going with the army or not, and Augustina hadn't been able to tell her either. She had said she thought it unlikely, which was comforting right up until she confessed that she had no way of knowing for sure.

 _Please not him._

"And, um," she mumbled. "And…are you going?"

Jean looked away from her. His expression would have been funny if Angelique hadn't been so worried about him, one part scowl and the other part pouting like a duck. "No," he confessed. "Although most of the Guards are leaving, some are staying defend the palace…and I've been told that my secondment to the princess' household means I wouldn't be going anyway."

That was why he sounded distant! He was disappointed! Angelique's relief was tempered by such a surge of irritation that she almost felt like smacking him.

"Good," she said. "I'm glad you're staying here."

"Good?" Jean repeated.

"Yes, good!" Angelique snapped. "It means I don't have to worry about you getting killed somewhere far away from me…and leaving me all alone."

"You're not alone any more, Angelique."

"I've never been alone because I've had you."

Jean grinned. "I meant that-"

"Yes, I know what you meant," Angelique replied. "But that doesn't mean…that doesn't mean I don't still need you. I'm glad you're staying here."

She wanted him to say that he was likewise glad to be staying close by, she wanted him to say it so very badly…but he didn't. He didn't even seem to realise that that was what she was waiting for him to say. Instead he said, "I'll be sorry to miss the party."

"It's not a party, it's a war."

"You know what I meant."

"Unfortunately, yes," Angelique muttered. _I know you too well, clearly._

"They'll be laden with glory when they come back," Jean declared.

"Those that do come back," Angelique said sharply. "You can scowl all you like but Marinette and Cinderella would give their eye teeth to be where I am now, to know that Prince Eugene and Colonel Gerard were staying close by." _And Mademoiselle Adessi and Augustina too, and Constance and a hundred others and more most likely. And more across the land, too, as like as not._

"Even those that perish will fall as heroes."

"Which is a great comfort to those left behind, I'm sure," Angelique said in a voice as dry as parched earth. She imagined how Cinderella would react, if news were brought to her of Prince Eugene's death. She could see the princess in her mind's eye: all the joy in her face turning to ash as the report was given to her, the life draining out of her rosy cheeks; she could see her weeping uncontrollably, shutting out the entire world; she could see her putting on a black mourning dress and hiding her face behind a veil of lace and a mask of decorum to hide her sorrow. What she could not see was Cinderella being comforted in any way, shape or form by the knowledge that Prince Eugene had died a hero's death. Die a hero, die a coward, it was all one in death. A fallen hero could no more lie with his wife, kiss her, embrace her, dance with her than could any other dead man.

So what price glory, in the end?

"Let me give you a piece of advice," Angelique continued. "Don't mention glory or death or anything like that around Cinderella. She's trying not to show it, but she's really worried about His Highness. Probably best not to go saying it around anyone really."

"It's what all the officers down in the Mess are saying," Jean protested.

"That is as maybe," Angelique replied. "But just because it makes the officers brave doesn't mean it brings any comfort to those left behind."

"I won't say anything in front of the princess," Jean agreed.

"Good," Angelique said sharply. "Because, honestly, I think it's the last thing she needs."

"She's so upset?"

"As I said, she isn't showing it. Or she's trying not to," Angelique replied. "But she doesn't want him to go. Why do any of them have to go? It all seems so pointless."

"It's for the honour of Armorique."

"What good does honour do to any man; or any woman either?" Angelique demanded. _It has as little worth as glory, or so it seems to me anyway._

Jean didn't reply to that. He didn't quite look at her. "Do you think that she'll be ashamed of me?"

"Who?"

"Princess Cinderella," Jean said. "Do you think she will be ashamed of me, not having gone to war with the other men?"

Angelique rolled her eyes. "No, no I don't think that she'll be ashamed of you; I think she'll be glad that there is someone around here whom she can-" She stopped abruptly, as she finally caught up with the real meaning of his words. "You're ashamed of yourself, aren't you?"

Jean still didn't look at her. "I feel less a soldier, somehow, to be left behind to-"

This time Angelique really did smack him, there was a cracking sound as her palm collided with his face so hard that it knocked him sideways a pace. Now he looked at her, with astonished eyes.

"Angelique-"

"No!" Angelique snapped. "No, you will not mope about the fact that you aren't getting to go off and risk your life and maybe die far away from me! I won't have it! Do you know how scared I was? Have you any idea how nervous I was when I thought that you might be going to war? Doesn't that matter to you at all? If you had gone, I...I suppose you wouldn't have a choice, and I'd try to bear it the way that Cinderella and Marinette and Augustina and all the rest are trying to bear it. But you're not going, you're staying here and that makes me feel so...so stop acting like this is a bad thing! Nobody but you thinks that. Nobody but you takes this as a slight upon you; for goodness' sake you've saved the princess twice, isn't that glorious enough?"

Jean looked down. "I didn't realise-"

"What? That I cared about you? That I care for you?"

"I didn't realise that you were so afraid," Jean said. "All of you."

"Well we are," Angelique practically shouted into his face. "Idiot." She turned away with a shake of her head.

"Angelique," Jean said.

She stopped, and looked back at him.

"Thank you, for your concern," he said. "I do appreciate it."

Angelique snorted. "Remember what I said. No moping in front of Cinderella or the others. We must all wear a brave face, those of us who have little to fear."

 _Just as she's doing, who has so much more to worry about._

* * *

Philippe's nursery, positioned in one of the middling levels of the King's Tower where His Majesty could easily wander in whenever he felt inclined, was a little larger than Cinderella's own bedroom, although the other rooms of Cinderella's suite of royal apartments more than made up for that discrepancy. Wardrobes and toy chests rested against walls painted in a warm shade of blue, while a rocking horse sat in one corner and an incredibly large wooden castle, that was almost as tall as Philippe himself, sat nearby another with various wooden soldiers scattered nearby or standing on the battlements. Philippe himself was tucked up in bed with a velveteen rabbit beside him, as befitted the lateness of the hour, with only a single candle resting by his bedside to provide illumination in the room. His grandmother was, tonight, in her own room across the hall, and it was Eugene who sat on the edge of Philippe's bed with a book in his hand, while Cinderella watched him from near the doorway.

"...and so, because he had found true love, the curse was broken and the beast was transformed into a handsome prince," Eugene read. "He and Beauty were married, and..."

"And they lived happily ever after?" Philippe said.

Eugene smiled down at him. "Well, perhaps. It's not always as easy as it seems."

"But it is well worth striving for," Cinderella said. She walked across the room and sat down on the other side of Philippe's bed, putting one arm around his small, childlike shoulders. "No matter how hard things may seem, no matter how much your heart aches...if you have faith, and a little determination, then you will always be able to find happiness." She bent down, and kissed him on the temple. "Goodnight, Philippe; sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, Stepmother."

Cinderella hesitated for a moment, as a memory surfaced at those words of his as though they had been summoned by a magic spell: her own bedroom, in her father's house, and the kindly smile of his new wife as she tucked her in and kissed her goodnight. _Goodnight, Stepmother._

 _Goodnight, Cinderella, sleep tight._ What a mask her Stepmother had worn, while her father still lived.

 _I will never be cruel to you,_ Cinderella vowed, as she looked down upon Philippe. _I will love you as though you were my own son._

"Stepmother? Is something wrong?"

Cinderella smiled. "No, nothing is wrong." She stood up. "Sleep tight, Philippe."

"Goodnight, Philippe," Eugene said, rising to his own feet in turn.

"Goodnight, Papa."

They watched him lie down, and close his eyes, before Eugene picked up the candle and they began to leave the nursery together.

As they reached the doorway, Cinderella turned to him. "Have you told him yet? That you're leaving?"

Eugene looked towards Philippe with such a guilty look upon his face that Cinderella knew the answer before he said it. "I'm not sure how to explain it."

"I think that you ought to," Cinderella said mildly. "It would be better from you, than waiting for somebody else to tell him after you've gone." She didn't envy the prospect of the task falling upon her, if Eugene neglected it, and even if it fell to His Majesty or Madame Clairval...she felt it would be best from Eugene himself.

"Probably I should," Eugene muttered. "Although I am not sure how. What should I tell him?"

"The truth," Cinderella suggested. "Tell him that you have go away for some time, and that you're sorry, but that what you're doing is very important." In truth, Cinderella was less than entirely convinced of that last part. What did it really matter to Armorique what happened on the other side of the world? How did it hurt Armorique to let the people in far-off Louisiana go their own way in the world, without obstacle or interference? But that was not what Eugene needed to hear from her right now. Right now, it was her duty as his wife and as Armorique's princess to support his cause, and that of the country...and if she could not actually support it with all her heart then she could at least pretend that was the case.

Eugene nodded glumly. "I don't suppose...would you...no, no, I'll do this alone."

Cinderella took the candle from his hands. "I'll be here."

Eugene nodded again, and smiled weakly. "Philippe," he called, in what was both a whisper and at the same time loud enough to carry across the room. "Philippe," he repeated, as he returned to his son's bed and knelt down beside it.

Cinderella couldn't hear exactly what he said, it wasn't her place to eavesdrop between Eugene and his son and so she didn't try to listen. But she saw Eugene speak, and embrace Philippe before he bade him goodnight for the last time.

"That...that was easier than I feared it might be," Eugene said, as he returned.

"You don't need to be afraid of him," Cinderella said, and the hushed tone that she used to avoid disturbing Philippe could not quite hide her amusement as she snuffed out the candle and closed the door to the nursery behind her. "He's your son, and he loves you."

"He likes you."

Cinderella smiled. "I haven't given him any reason not to like me." _And I don't ever plan to._

Eugene put his hand on her arm, just above the elbow. "I meant...I know he's in good hands, with you."

 _I can rest easy knowing that you will be well cared for._

"Cinderella?"

Cinderella dismissed those old memories. _I am not my stepmother. I am not, and I will never be._ To Eugene she said, "I'll do my best, until you come home. We all will."

* * *

The next day, Jean stood to attention before the Prince and Princess in one of the royal drawing rooms, and paid no attention whatsoever to the boxes that they were holding in their hands.

He remembered what Angelique had said, that the Her Highness was upset that His Highness was going to war, to risk his life upon the hazards of the field. Put like that...it didn't seem so unreasonable, but that was not how the officers in the Mess had made it sound. Victory was assured, according to them; the enemy were nought but a bunch of country bumpkins with fowling pieces good only for hunting ducks, rustics who would not stand a volley against disciplined soldiers in the field. Triumph would be sweet and swift and glorious, and they would all be home again by Christmas time, their brows burnished by the victors' laurels. They had painted such a picture for him, his brother officers, that Jean had been filled with envy of those who would be going, and suffused with shame at his own staying behind. But when Angelique spoke of Her Highness' fears, when she explained to him how the ladies left behind saw these things...it didn't seem as incomprehensible as he had first thought.

Still, he had no doubt that all their fears would turn out to be groundless. These colonists would collapse like a house of cards, the gallant Prince Eugene would lead his host to swift triumph, and Princess Cinderella would be back in the arms of her husband in no time at all.

They'd see, and then they'd laugh at how baseless all their nerves had been. All the officers in the Mess couldn't be that wrong, could they?

"Ensign Taurillion," Prince Eugene said. "I have been remiss."

"Your Highness?"

"You have saved Cinderella's life not once but two times over," Prince Eugene said. "And yet, for preserving that which is most precious to me I've so far given you nought but thanks."

"Even those are not required, your highness, I did my duty," Jean replied. That was what you were supposed to say at times like this.

"I disagree," Prince Eugene said. "I think that not only thanks, but a reward are called for." He held out a box carved out of a reddish-brown wood. "With my thanks, and my compliments."

"And this is from me," Cinderella said, holding out a second box, of darker wood with brass edges. "Thank you, for saving my life."

"Your Highnesses..." Jean murmured, genuinely uncertain which to take first. He took the box out of Prince Eugene's hands, as it had been offered to him first, and prised it open to reveal, nestling amid red velvet, a pair of ivory-handled duelling pistols with ornate silver inlay. His mouth fell open sufficiently wide to admit carriages. "Your Highness, I..." he shut the box, and took the gift that Princess Cinderella offered to him. Opening it, it turned out to be a telescope, with a brass plaque affixed to it bearing the inscription: 'With profound gratitude, C'.

"Your Highnesses," Jean repeated, as he carefully closed the box upon the second gift. He had never owned anything as splendid as these things before. He had never owned anything like them at all. He had... "I don't know what to say."

"What you say isn't important," Prince Eugene said. He placed a hand upon Jean's shoulder. "I don't know if you're disappointed about being left behind or not, but as far as I'm concerned you have the most vital task in all of Armorique. While I am gone...Cinderella's safety is wholly in your charge."

Jean swallowed, as he felt a great weight settle upon his shoulders. "I swear, your highness, that I shall not fail you. Not either of you."

"I know," Eugene said. "If I didn't believe that, I'm not sure I could leave."

Jean smiled. "Then I apologise for giving your highness such confidence."

Eugene let out a bark of laughter. "Keep Cinderella safe until I return."

"I shall, till then and even after, your highness."

* * *

Over the days since Eugene had broken the news to her of his impending departure, troops had been drawn into the capital from all over Armorique. Regiments of foot and horse, batteries of bronze guns all swelled the host encamped beyond the city limits even as ships filled up the harbour to carry them across the sea.

On the fifth day the last of the great host was gathered, the last troops arrived to be transported to Louisiana to fight for the honour of Armorique, and so on the late afternoon of the fifth day the great and the good of the royal city poured out of the city in their carriages and onto the edges of the camp that the mustering army had established while they waited for their strength to assemble.

And there, in the fields before the capital, the army of Armorique paraded in grand review for the delight of its people.

Eugene was ahorse, mounted upon his white charger and clad in a crisp blue uniform festooned with gold braid, directing the troops as they marched up and down before the awe-struck crowds. The regiments of foot marched to the sounds of fifes and drums, the cavalry wheeled back and forth to the direction of the trumpets; the artillery fired blank cartridges into the air. His Majesty the King was also mounted, but instead of directing the troops he merely watched them from the centre of the audience, and as they passed each regiment dipped their standards to him, and the men turned their eyes right as the officers saluted with their swords. And he returned their salutes, with a solemn expression.

Cinderella watched from an open carriage, with Lucrecia sitting opposite her as her guest. There was to be a ball following the review, in honour of the officers departing for the colonies, and as it was a ball for officers & their wives and sweethearts that meant that Lucrecia would be attending her first ball that evening; Cinderella could not help but wish that it were under better circumstances. As there would be no time to change, both were already dressed for the ball to come, Cinderella in a gown of midnight blue and Lucrecia in a maroon pink, both wearing opera gloves over their arms. Cinderella's hair was styled in her habitual Gallic twist with the silver hairband for formal occasions, while Lucrecia wore hers in an untidy high bun, from which braided curls dangled, with more braids to the front framing her face. Cinderella wore no bracelets on this occasion, nor a corsage nor any rings on her fingers that were not her wedding or engagement rings, but she did wear a pair of diamond necklaces around her neck, and her swooping pearl necklace with the sapphire hanging from it, along with a pair of diamond earrings. Lucrecia had a silver chain around her neck, descending down below the neckline of her gown so that no one could see what Cinderella knew dangled from it, the engagement ring she had received from Colonel Gerard, along with a pair of simple pearl earrings.

Thus attired, together they watched as all the regiments in their brightly coloured coats marched by, they flinched at the booming sounds of the cannons; they admired the horsemanship of the cavalry.

"Doesn't he look dashing?" Lucrecia said, as Etienne Gerard galloped by at the head of his hussars, in a scarlet jacket with his dark blue, fur-trimmed pelisse flying behind him.

"Yes," Cinderella agreed. She smiled self-deprecatingly as she looked across the coach. "Much more so than my Eugene, today, I must admit."

Lucrecia chuckled. "Hussars have the best uniforms."

Cinderella looked away again, to where a regiment of cuirassiers were beginning to show themselves. "Probably, although the truth is I wish Eugene were one of them." She had no idea whether those gleaming breastplates and plumed helmets that they wore really protected them, but they looked so much safer than the other men shielded only by cloth. If she knew that Eugene had a coat of steel to protect him, perhaps she wouldn't fret as much.

No, she would fret anyway. But at least...she still wished he had some armour to protect him.

"Truthfully? So do I," Lucrecia said, with a slight sigh. "I worry for him."

"I think we all do," Cinderella murmured. She held out her hand. "If there is anything that I can, you only need to ask me."

Lucrecia took Cinderella's hand. "Thank you, your highness, you are very generous."

"Not at all," Cinderella replied. "At times like these I think we need to stick together, don't you?"

"Yes, your highness," Lucrecia agreed. "I just..." She looked at Etienne Gerard once more. "I don't want to wear black before I've worn white."

At that moment a host of trumpets rang out, and the eyes of Cinderella and Lucrecia both were drawn across the field, to where all the cavalry of the army were...were charging straight towards them?

The horses surged across the field at a gallop, trampling the grass and churning up the soil with the furious thump of the horses' hooves. The cavalrymen atop their swift steeds brandished swords and lances as they bellowed out furious defiance of all those people who had come to watch them before they went to war. The cavalry charged with the dying light of the sun behind them, and their sabres gleamed red in the dusk light.

Cinderella's eyes widened as the cavalry got closer. What was going on? What was happening? Had the whole world gone mad? The cavalry got closer and closer with no sign of stopping, nor did anyone show any sign of doing anything to stop them. The charge swept closer and then, as another trumpet sounded, the whole wave of onrushing horses wheeled away in a crisp column before coming to a halt.

As Eugene rode up to her carriage, Cinderella noticed that he was laughing.

"I hope we didn't alarm you too much," he said.

Cinderella stood up. "Was that supposed to be a joke?"

"Not so much a joke as a tradition, for ending a review like this," Eugene said. "You weren't afraid, were you?"

A harrumph was Cinderella's only response.

"I'm very sorry," Eugene said, although the smile on his face said otherwise. "Shall we go now?"

As the troops returned to their camp, the officers - many of them, at least - accompanied the many carriages of those who had come to see them parade back to the palace, where the ballroom had been decorated in a somewhat martial theme: two pairs of cannon stood in the two northern corners of the room accompanied each by a stand of Armorican flags, and the usual orchestra had been replaced by the band of the Maison du Roi. At first, when the unusually brassy music started up, Cinderella was not sure if it was going to be possible to properly dance to it. But then Eugene took her in his arms and began to move her across the floor and all her doubts vanished.

Cinderella danced with no one else. No one suggested that she should. If this was their last night together for months, maybe for longer, then Cinderella wanted to remember every moment of it. She wanted to feel every moment of his arms around her, the way his hand felt on her waist, the way his shoulder felt beneath her grip. The way his eyes looked staring into hers, the way the light fell on his face, she wanted to remember everything about him on this, their last night together for...for however long it took before he came back to her.

Cinderella blinked back tears. Eugene didn't need to see them, not now; it was bravery from her that he required, and she would give it to him.

And so she smiled as they danced, because this was the last night and so they might as well be happy, before happiness sailed away.

* * *

Seagulls cawed in the skies above the docks. A column of ships, with sails unfurled and straining in the direction of the wind, were already disappearing into the horizon. Only Eugene's ship, the _Resolution_ remained to sail.

Eugene stood at the foot of the boarding plank looking down on her. "I suppose...this is goodbye, for now."

"Yes," Cinderella murmured. "Yes, I suppose it is. I...I have something for you." She reached into the bag that hung off her arm, and pulled out a silver locket on a chain.

Eugene took it from her unresisting hands, and opened it. Inside was a portrait of Cinderella in miniature - a pencil sketch only, there had been no time for her to have a full oil portrait painted - smiling up at him, and on the other side, a lock of her hair.

Eugene stared down at the locket for a while, running his thumb over the pencil portrait, before he snapped it shut even as his eyes rose to look once more on Cinderella. "I will treasure this," he said. "Thank you."

Cinderella grabbed hold of his wrists. "Come back to me," she urged. "You must come back."

"And I will," Eugene murmured. And then he kissed her, tenderly, longingly, with such length and passion that he must surely wish for their last kiss to be one she would remember in his absence, and it was so much so that when the kiss was done Cinderella could only stand still and silent for a moment, gasping for breath.

"Farewell, my love," Eugene said, and he turned away from her and strode onto his waiting ship.

Cinderella watched him go. "Colonel Gerard!" she called, as she saw the colonel standing by the side of the ship looking down.

"Your highness?" he called back.

"Keep him safe!" Cinderella called.

Colonel Gerard stared at her for a moment, and then nodded his head to her as the ship hoisted its anchor and slowly began to pull away.

Cinderella waved to Eugene as the ship began to sail, and he waved back. Even when he stopped Cinderella remained, standing on the dock, watching the ships grow smaller and smaller on the horizon, until they had disappeared altogether.

 _Come back to me. You must come back._

* * *

 _Author's Note: Eugene being sent away for a little while is one of the most long planned-for events in this story, but now that I've actually gone and done it I feel a little sorry as I never really developed him in the same way as Cinderella or the other characters. Still, there are good reasons why he has to get shoved off-stage (and he is going to be off-stage, this isn't going to turn into a war story; in fact one of the reasons I first started writing the predecessor to this fic was to see if I could write something that didn't require a constant stream of action scenes in order to be dramatic or drive the story forwards. I haven't quite succeeded as Jean's action scenes attest, but I've gotten closer than I ever did before in any of my writing), as you will see in future chapters very soon._


	29. Little Men

_Congratulations to Prince Harry and Meghan!_

Little Men

Four weeks had passed since Eugene sailed away with all his men. Even with the best weather in the world it would probably not be possible for him to have reached New Orleans, his first destination, yet. It was estimated that the earliest he could arrive was in five weeks, and probably more like seven. Which meant that Cinderella had no idea of where he was, or what was happening to him. Had the weather been fair? Had he encountered storms? Was he seasick? Was he in danger? She hoped not. She prayed not. Cinderella was not a particularly devout girl, by any measure; her Stepmother had avoided church and had nothing but scorn for faith and, since her marriage, Cinderella had not found herself becoming more pious. But she prayed every night before bed for Eugene's safe return, and that of Colonel Gerard and all the brave men with them.

At other times she imagined where he might be, what he might be seeing: islands, mermaids, maybe even monsters. Marinette told her that the latter two were only myths, and she was probably right...but Cinderella found it was almost preferable to imagine the mythical perils than to the contemplate the real dangers of hurricane and tempest.

She wrote to him each day, telling him of the health of his father and son, of her own doings, of events in the palace or court, any little things that he might find interesting. She sent none of such letters. Eugene would not want to be deluged in messages from her, describing banal events from her life without him. Rather, each week she took anything notable from the letters that she had written and stitched them together into a single message with more meat on it, and had it delivered to the New Orleans mail packet. A ship did not sail every week - it was lucky that they sailed at all with the war, although she supposed that it was also necessary that they do so - but she hoped Eugene would not mind getting several letters from her at once. Leaving the intervals in her correspondence longer...she wasn't sure that she could go that long without talking to him.

Without her ladies-in-waiting, Cinderella would have been lost in a mire of loneliness. While sometimes their conversation strayed into pointless and unverifiable musings about the war - Augustina, who seemed to fancy herself something of an expert on account of her familial connections to the army, was fond of declaring that it all hinged on whether Eugene could reinforce New Orleans before it fell to the rebels - for the most part they kept Cinderella's mind of any possibilities too dire to contemplate, and worked to cheer her up when Eugene's absence had left her feeling particularly low. Grace's skill at the piano could bring Marinette to tears, while at other times Augustina would entertain them all with her violin. Then there were times when they would simply sit and talk of nothing for a few hours, and in so doing take their collective minds off weighty subjects of war and sea voyages.

That was not quite enough for Serena and Grace, who both seemed to think that Cinderella needed more amusement than their company could provide, and both of whom rushed to fill that gap they had identified with lavish masques and theatricals at the palace itself that they had paid for. Although she had not asked for these entertainments, Cinderella appreciated what they were trying to do for her and insisted on paying them back for everything they or their families had spent on these revels the first few times; but after a while Cinderella began to feel that they were simply too lavish for the circumstances, and she was forced to get a little sharp with both of them in order to get them to stop.

"I'm sorry, both of you, but I can't allow this to continue any longer," Cinderella said sharply. "I've tried to tell you that all of this was unnecessary so now I have to tell you that it must stop. Please stop wasting your money on me like this, I don't need it; and in any case, this is hardly the time."

Serena bowed her head. "I'm very sorry, Cinderella."

"We both are," Grace added. "We didn't mean to upset you. We would never set out to upset you, you must realise that."

Cinderella sighed. "I...I'm not really upset, I just...thank you for trying, both of you, but next time please stop the first time I ask."

"We will remember," Serena declared, as she got up from her chair. "Now embrace us, so that our friendship may be shown to be stronger than these trifling misunderstandings."

Cinderella gladly acceded; they were very considerate friends, both of them, even if they were a little misguided sometimes.

One positive side-effect of them stopping their efforts to lighten the mood in the palace was that the _Courier_ , which had started complaining bitterly of her frivolous extravagance in a time of war, stopped making such a fuss.

Cinderella tried to spend at least one evening a week with Philippe, to play with him or read to him before bedtime, to tuck him in and kiss him goodnight. She wanted him to be familiar with her (she knew what it was like to suddenly have a new stepmother come into your life) and she wanted him to feel welcome and loved in what must be a strange and novel place for him (she knew a little of what that was like too). Sometimes His Majesty joined her, other times he spent time with Philippe alone; Cinderella got the distinct impression that he would have spent far more time with his grandson than he did, but the pressures of his position lay so heavily upon the royal shoulders, especially without Eugene there to help share the burden, that it severely restricted his leisure hours.

To tell the truth, Cinderella was a little worried about His Majesty; when she saw him at dinner - in Eugene's absence, they dined alone together far more often than not - he looked a little worn down by his workload.

"There must be something I can do, your majesty," Cinderella begged. "Please, I know that I can't do as much to help you as Eugene did, but there must be something I can do for you."

His Majesty smiled at her with a paternal fondness. "You are very kind, my dear, but this is the burden of a king. I have born it for many years and I will bear it yet."

Cinderella did find herself spending more time on her lessons than she had before. History, politics, Latin, literature, she spent hours on all of them. It was a necessity, yes, but also a distraction…until the topic became some aspect of military history and her thoughts would fly right back to Eugene, wherever he was.

Sometimes she would look briefly out the window and see Philippe playing with his grandmother, and wish that she could join them…but she had work to do, and she always turned away and back to her books.

Lucien visited more often in Eugene's absence, once every other day almost, and when he came he was just as assiduous of Cinderella's wellbeing in what he called her loneliness as Serena and Grace were.

"I'm not really lonely," Cinderella told him. "I mean...I miss Eugene desperately, of course, but I'm not alone and it wouldn't be very fair to say that I was. I have my ladies, and they do their best to keep me company."

"I'm sure, but they're not..." Lucien hesitated for a moment. "There are some places they cannot accompany you."

"Well, yes, of course you're right," Cinderella conceded, feeling a slight blush rise to her cheeks at the idea of discussing such matters, even at an oblique angle like this. "But no one can, not until Eugene returns."

"Yes, you too are quite correct," Lucien replied, in a somewhat muted tone of voice.

One day he turned up in a remarkably dishevelled state, literally shaking with nerves, unable to so much as hold a cup of tea in his hand without it spilling all over the floor. In halting speech, he confessed to her that he was in desperate trouble, drowning in debt, why he even spoke of ending his life unless he could quickly raise the necessary money! Cinderella was horrified at the idea that Lucien should be the one to get hurt after so many people had gone to war, and Marinette looked so shocked about it as well. She offered him protection, but he was insistent that only five hundred pounds could save him now.

"Oh, I'll help you, of course I will," Cinderella said, ignoring the rather unkind and decidedly sour look on Angelique's face that stood in marked contrast to Marinette's pallor. "But...but I want you to promise me something, Lucien; I need you to promise me before I help you because if you don't...I'm not sure that I can."

Lucien leaned forward. He and Cinderella were sharing the same settee, and he came so close that their noses were almost touching. "For you? Anything. Name it and it shall be yours."

Cinderella leaned back away from him just a little, he was disconcertingly close to her and it was hard to look at him. "I would like you to promise to stop gambling."

Lucien was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry...I don't understand."

"It isn't good for you," Cinderella declared. "It makes you so troubled and so nervous, it puts you in danger...I'm worried that if this keeps up you'll be hurt before I can help you. What if you waited too long to come to me? What if you weren't given enough time? I worry about you. Please, if you won't do it for yourself then do it for my sake. Promise me."

"Cinderella," Lucien murmured. He reached out, and placed his hands under Cinderella's wrists, so that she could feel his fingertips upon her arms. "Cinderella, I appreciate your concern, believe me. The fact that you care so much for my fate and wellbeing means more to me than I can ever express...but you're asking me to give up one of life's few pleasures."

"A poisoned pleasure," Cinderella replied. "And there are so many others that you could delight in instead."

"My luck won't always be so bad, fortune is sure to-"

"I'm serious, Lucien," Cinderella said, firmly but at the same time not unkindly, allowing a touch of sternness into her voice but not nearly enough to become harsh. "I...I can't stop you from hurting yourself...but I can't watch as you do. If...if you won't promise me then...then I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to go."

For a moment, Lucien stared at her in surprise. Then he smiled, and his eyes twinkled as he gripped her forearms tightly in his hands. "You are my angel," he said. "My angel, sent to light my way to a better and more wholesome mode of living."

Cinderella looked away as her cheeks started to burn. "I'm just concerned about you, as any friend would be."

"Perhaps," Lucien said, and he kissed both of her hands in quick succession. "I promise. I give you my word. No more gambling from now on."

After he had departed, with all of the money necessary to save him, all of Cinderella's ladies-in-waiting - they were all present - had something to say about it.

"My father is fond of saying that if a man says he'll kill himself if he doesn't get a hundred pounds he'll probably be content to settle for twenty," Augustina said in a voice as flat as a well-maintained road. "You should have seen how little he was willing to accept."

"Lucien...he wouldn't ask for more than he needed," Marinette said tremulously. "At least...I don't think he would. No, he wouldn't, he's sometimes unwise but not unkind. And he's promised now, so he won't be coming back. At least...he won't be coming back asking for more money, I'm sure."

Angelique made a kind of sceptical noise out of her throat. "Marinette...I know he's your brother, so I'm sorry to have to say this, but...it would be better if he didn't come back. Cinderella, what about the way he's always putting his hands on you? Doesn't it bother you at all?"

"Oh, don't be absurd, Angelique, we all put our hands on Cinderella every once in a while," Serena said. "It's something that friends do. Don't be such a prude, for goodness' sake. I happen to think you were rather hard on dear Lucien, Cinderella. Blackmailing a promise out of him like that."

"Blackmail?" Cinderella repeated. "Oh, but I never meant to-"

"He couldn't very well say no in his state, could he?" Serena asked.

Cinderella lowered her gaze for a moment. "Well, no, but...but it's for his own good. I only want to help him."

"Oh, I'm sure," Serena murmured. "But it is a great pleasure to deprive him of."

"Although when you lose as often as he does, it's probably a sign you ought to give up," Grace remarked.

The next day an article appeared in the _Courier_ , alleging that Cinderella was surrounding herself with male favourites while her husband was away. Everything was couched in supposition and innuendo, so it was hard to tell exactly what they were alleging, but they did claim that she showered these favourites - of which they suggested Jean was one and Lucien another - with lavish gifts. Although Serena deplored these scurrilous allegations, she urged Cinderella to do nothing about them, but display her contempt for the story by ignoring it.

"I'm forced to agree," Augustina said. "If you tried to deny it you'd either have to lie about giving money to Lucien Gerard or publicly admit it, which would only fuel the allegations. Best say nothing and hope that it goes away on it's own."

It did not go away sufficiently swiftly to spare Cinderella the mortifying experience of being summoned to His Majesty's drawing room to account for the allegations.

"It isn't true, your majesty, it's not true at all," Cinderella cried. "Or, at least...yes, I have given money to Lucien, but I've also given some to Serena and Grace as well when they needed it, and for all for the same reason: because they're my friends and they needed a little help from me. I've never given Jean any gifts; I've never given anything like that to Lucien either. I love Eugene, I would never...you must believe me!"

"And I do," His Majesty replied, in a that was almost paternal in it's soothing quality. "Even if I were not convinced of your love for my son - which I am - I would be convinced that you are too virtuous a woman to betray him while he is away. But I suspected what you have now confirmed, that there is a little substance out of which the press has spun a work of fiction. I suppose that Eugene and I are partly to blame."

"You, your majesty?"

"I keep forgetting how unused you are to this life of ours, how novel it must be for you to have to deal with flatterers and false friends."

"I know what you mean, your majesty," Cinderella said, thinking of Theodora. "But I can't believe that Lucien, Serena or Grace could be called that."

"You know your own household best, I'm sure," his majesty said, with a slight yawn. "But if I were you I would be a little less open-handed with your generosity in future. In the meantime there is little to be done about this nonsense except to hope that people see it for the calumny it is."

The anonymous love letters and their accompanying flowers, singly or in bouquets, were also coming more swiftly since Eugene went away. By the end of the second week since Eugene's departure Cinderella was finding a letter on her bed every single day. She wrote a rather stern reply telling whoever was writing to her in no uncertain terms that she had neither desire nor intention of betraying her husband, but the notes kept coming and the anonymous author showed no sign that he had received, understood, or taken the slightest bit of notice of her reply.

To be honest...as much as Eugene had made light of the matter, and as much as Cinderella attempted to do the same, these notes which had long since begun to upset her with their presence were now beginning to frighten her. How was it that the author always knew when she would be absent from her room, that no one ever saw him come or go? Might he decide to come into her room sometime when she was present in it, and reveal himself? When the letters started coming every single day, Cinderella had swallowed her fear of looking foolish - or it had been overborne by her other fears - and had told Jean everything, asking him if he could put a guard on her bedroom door. He had agreed, even standing guard himself on the first day and night.

It hadn't stopped the letters coming. They kept on finding their way to Cinderella's bed, and none of the guards, not even Jean, saw anyone coming or going.

When Cinderella came back to her room, on the first day after setting a guard, confident that her troubles with this pestering suitor were over, to find a note and a rose upon her pillow, she had been seized by something approaching terror. Were these letters being delivered by a phantom? Was magic being used to get in and out of her chambers? What if whoever this was, who could move so freely and so stealthily around the palace, chose to come in when she was sleeping? She had been so frightened that she had almost abandoned her chambers and asked to be moved into rooms in a different part of the palace, and only the insistence of some of her ladies that that would be an over-reaction prevented her.

"The letters are getting through somehow," Angelique said.

"That isn't the same as mystery men creeping into Cinderella's bedroom in the middle of the night," Augustina replied. "What do you think is going on?"

Angelique shrugged. "Maybe there are secret passages in the walls that whoever is using to get around?"

Augustina rolled her eyes. "This is real life, not _Mysteries of Udolpho_. Most likely somebody is having one of the chambermaids drop off these notes when they come to clean up. That's why they always come when the room is empty, that's why the guards don't see anything: because they see exactly what they expect to see. I imagine His Highness thought much the same, that's why it didn't concern him greatly."

Cinderella had tried to tell herself that Augustina was right, and to adopt the same casual insouciance that Eugene had displayed towards this importunate pestering...but she could not, not completely. She had not surrendered her chambers to her suitor, but in addition to the guard on the door Angelique now shared Cinderella's bedroom, sleeping on a feather palias and a small mound of blankets and cushions on the floor, with a broken-off broom handle by her side. Cinderella wasn't especially fond of asking her to do that, but Angelique had volunteered, and she claimed it was still a deal more comfortable than other places she had slept.

And it allowed Cinderella to sleep more easily.

Such was her life.

* * *

Frederica lounged across her bed in a self-consciously seductive pose, displaying the litheness of her limbs, the beauty of her bare legs, and even by her posture and position allowing her companion a glimpse down her cleavage.

Someone with a little self-awareness might have wondered to themselves what they could possibly be have done to deserve to have such bountiful gifts bestowed upon them…but if Monsieur Mordred had been able to see himself as others saw him he probably would have been suspicious when Princess Frederica first invited him to share her bed, not afterwards.

"Until next time, sir," Frederica said in a voice that was far more breathless and excited than that she with which she normally spoke. "I will pine for you." Again, a more subtle fellow might well have seen through it, and indeed if she had a higher opinion of Monsieur Mordred's wits then she wouldn't be laying it on with a trowel like this. But she didn't have a high opinion, and so lay it on she did.

 _The things I do for Normandie._

As he finished putting on his clothes, Mordred gave her a lascivious smirk that would have had Frederica shuddering had she possessed a less iron control over herself. "I, too, shall look forward to our next appointment. This was both pleasant and stimulating." He smacked his lips at the word stimulating, injecting more innuendo into it than Frederica would have thought possible.

 _Could you please be less intolerable?_

"I will send word to you soon with our next rendez-vous," Frederica said. "Until then, sir, I wish you all good fortune in saving the country from that wicked woman."

Mordred put on his hat. "It is a heavy burden, but one that I shall prove equal to, with God's grace. I feel the hand of destiny upon my shoulders."

 _Good lord, I hope not._

Frederica giggled girlishly, and gave him the bedroom eyes as he took his leave of her. It was only when she was sure that her people had ushered him out of the house that she got up out of bed and rang for Anton.

"Have a bath drawn for me, Anton, I feel absolutely filthy," she declared.

"At once, princess," Anton said. "May I ask-"

"I was hoping you would," Frederica said. She took a moment to sigh deeply. "Monsieur Mordred is a member of the Chamber of Deputies, and not too long ago he took the opportunity to praise that fellow we found to botch an attempt upon the life of Princess Cinderella. Parliamentary privilege gives him the right to say such things in the chamber without repercussion…but it occurred to me that if certain things were to be found in the homes of future assassins linking him to this terrible business…I doubt many people would be that surprised. Especially since Monsieur Mordred's conception of pillow-talk involved telling me how he would like to see his princess dead; for the good of the country of course."

"Of course, princess," Anton murmured in a tone as dry as champagne. "He is an impolitic man, then?"

"Or else he thinks me harmless."

"Did he tell you why he hates Princess Cinderella so?"

"Fear for his money mixed with a healthy serving of snobbery," Frederica replied. "Although I wouldn't be surprised if there is a light dusting of outrage at a woman having opinions in there too. If you had seen how I was required to play the foolish girl with him…"

"I understand why you need a bath, your highness…you are to attack Princess Cinderella again then?"

"I have no choice," Frederica explained. "Father has written to me castigating me for my inaction on that front since the second attempt. Will you find me someone else to bungle our next attempt, and I will get to work establishing connections to Monsieur Mordred. He has given me enough about him, I hope, but the difficulty will be keeping him above suspicion until I don't need him any more. If only Cinderella had gotten with child."

"The newly discovered boy changes nothing?"

"Not to Father; a bastard cannot inherit and so he tells me there is still a chance for me and for Normandie." Frederica sighed again. "I was hoping that this would be over by now, but it appears that that is not to be."

"I will get to work at once, highness."

"But first," Frederica said. "Draw me that bath."

* * *

The gentle breeze of the late afternoon was cool against Cinderella's cheek as the carriage rolled through the royal park, passing down a dirt track that wound slightly between the chestnut trees. A brief glance around the park confirmed one or two other carriages out and about, along with great numbers of men taking their constitutionals, gentlemen walking arm-in-arm with ladies, children flying kites or playing with hoops, people walking dogs. The whole atmosphere was relaxed and perfectly delightful. One or two people, on spotting, called out to her in some way with words of praise or respect, and to them Cinderella responded with a wave or a kind word in return, but most people seemed to recognise that she was here for her own peace and pleasure, and left her alone.

Esme, Philippe's grandmother, rode in the carriage with her, dandling Philippe upon her knee, and with them too was Grace, whose golden hair sparkled in the late afternoon sunshine. Jean rode on the footman's plate, the only armed escort that she had with her today.

There was no particular purpose to this trip, other than to enjoy the park and to enjoy the park with Philippe. Judging by the look upon his face, and upon hers, they were both enjoying themselves.

They passed nearby the wrought-iron bandstand, where a brass band was playing with great aplomb, and Cinderella asked the coachman to slow down a little so that they might appreciate the music for a little longer.

"Would either of you like to stop and get out?" Cinderella asked.

Philippe nodded enthusiastically, but his grandmother said, "No, thank you, your highness, the view is better from up here."

Cinderella nodded in agreement. She had attempted to persuade the older woman to call her Cinderella, as she was part of the family, but Esme had pointed out that in spite of that Cinderella still addressed her father-in-law as 'your majesty', to which Cinderella ultimately had no response but to let the matter lie.

"I learnt to ride here," Grace said, with a fond smile playing upon her face. "I used to ride my pony down from that hill there towards that clump of trees." She pointed with one delicate finger, gesturing the way her younger self had taken. When I got better, my father let me ride without a groom leading my horse, and then later without him riding beside me. When I was twelve he let me try and jump that pond there...this was very early in the morning, there was no one around."

"And did you?"

"The first time? No, my pony shied away and I fell into the water," said Grace, with a chuckle. "Perhaps you should come here to practice riding, Cinderella? Are you going to try again?"

"I'm not at all sure, to be honest with you," Cinderella replied. Her first experience...being thrown from the horse had been very frightening, and the aftermath very unpleasant. "When I was a girl I loved to ride, but...I've forgotten everything I used to know." _As with so many other things._

"You should try and again, with a better horse," Grace said. "Else how will you set an example for the young man when the time comes?"

Esme wrapped her arms protectively around Philippe. "He's a little young for that, don't you think?"

"No!" declared Philippe.

"I started riding when I was four," Grace said. "You'd like to ride, wouldn't you?"

"Yes!"

"A prince's son ought to learn how to-"

"Your highness, get down!" Jean yelled, snatching away Grace's words as he leapt from the footplate and began to run across the grass of the park, drawing one of his ivory-handled pistols from his sash.

Cinderella's eyes followed the direction of his movement, loping across the green towards...towards a man in a battered top hat and a dark green coat, aiming a pistol squarely in the direction of the carriage. A second pistol was in his free hand.

Jean aimed his pistol. Grace squealed in fright. Cinderella lunged across the carriage in front of Philippe.

There was an almighty bang, and the acrid stench of smoke filled the air. Grace screamed. Cinderella shuddered, with her arms wrapped around Esme and Philippe, her eyes screwed shut as she waited for...for whatever followed, for good or ill.

A man's cry of pain disturbed the momentary stillness of the air.

"It's alright, your highness, we've got him!"

Cinderella opened her eyes, letting out a little gasp as she pulled back a little from Esme and Philippe. "Stop, stop the coach," she said, turning around and blinking against the eye-watering smoke that lingered round about as she tried make out what had happened.

The smoke was coming from two sources, one near Jean and the other closer to...to whover had become the third person to try and kill her. _Princess Frederica,_ Cinderella thought, remembering what Eugene had said to her. _Does she want me dead that badly?_ She had heard only a single crack. Jean and the...the assassin must have fired at the same time, or close enough.

Judging by the moaning sounds coming from the assassin, Jean hadn't missed. The assassin writhed in the grip of a half-dozen stout-looking fellows who had wrenched his other pistol away from him and held him fast in spite of all his pained protestation.

"Is everyone alright?" Cinderella asked. "Philippe?"

"I'm fine, Stepmother," Philippe said.

"Oh, thank God," Cinderella murmured, as she cupped his cheeks between her trembling hands and kissed him on the forehead. "Thank goodness you're safe."

He smiled up at her. "Don't be scared, Stepmother. It's alright."

Cinderella let out a ragged gasp of breath. Her whole body was shaking. "You may have to be brave for both of us, Philippe. Madame Clairval?"

"I'm fine," Esme said quietly. "Thank you, your highness, for-"

"Don't mention it," Cinderella said quickly. "It was nothing, really. Grace, are you- Grace!"

Grace was out cold, lolling against the side of the carriage with her eyes closed. Cinderella couldn't see any blood, but when she called Grace's name there was no answer.

"Grace!" Cinderella cried again. "Somebody, help!"

People had already been flocking to the royal carriage, drawn by the sound of the gunshots and the cry of pain. Among them was a doctor who, when Grace was lowered by helpful hands out of the coach, pronounced that she had fainted from the shock of it all and, even as he gave this diagnosis, Grace's pretty green eyes fluttered open.

"Good heavens, what has...oh, lord, what-"

"It's alright, Grace," Cinderella said. "We're all safe, and the man is apprehended."

"Thank God for that."

Cinderella turned round - her ponytail flew around her, and ended up draped over her shoulder - as Jean jogged up to the open-topped carried. His eyes were wide and his face was a little blackened by powder. "Your highness, are you alright?"

"We're all fine, Jean, thanks to you," Cinderella murmured. "Thank goodness you saw him."

"That is my job, princess," Jean said. "The villain is apprehended and taken into custody." Behind him, Cinderella could see a couple of policemen manhandling the fellow away.

"It was I! It was me that did it!" he yelled, in between crying out in pain.

"He isn't hurt too badly, is he?" Cinderella asked, absurdly. Whatever he had done...she hated to see anyone, or any creature, suffer unduly.

"I regret I only hit him in the shoulder, highness," Jean replied. "I am told a doctor will see to him in prison."

"Good," Cinderella murmured.

"Perhaps we should return to the palace," Jean suggested.

"I should have been an admiral!" the villain yelled. "Recognise my greatness!"

Cinderella ignored him. "Yes, that's probably a good idea. Grace, do you need a hand up?"

"I'm going to be famous!" the assassin shouted to anyone who cared to listen.

"Oh for...your highness, please excuse me while I knock out his teeth," Jean said.

"You've done enough, Jean," Cinderella said, with only the mildest touch of disapproval. "Climb up, and let's go home."

"God save you, your highness!" someone shouted, as Jean climbed up onto the footman's plate and Grace got back into the carriage proper. "Heaven bless you."

"God bless, your highness! We're with you!" others cried, and more voices called out their good wishes and their blessings from the gathered crowd as the carriage began to move on, turning gently to carry them back the way they'd come.

Cinderella sat down, and practically sank into her seat. Her hands were shaking. Her whole body was shaking. She played with the diamond bracelet around her arm, tugging it in a circle, turning it round and round her arm in an attempt to calm herself via the constant, repetitive motion. Her breathing began to ease, her chest stopped heaving.

She glanced upwards, only a little, into Philippe's face. He was looking at her intently, and only when she looked at him did he smile at her.

 _Don't be scared, Stepmother, it's alright._

Don't be scared...she was scared. But she was also angry. Philippe didn't seem aware of it, but he could have died today. Whatever Cinderella had done, whatever cause she had given for Princess Frederica - or anyone else - to hurt her, Philippe was no part of it. To endanger an innocent child like that...it made her furious. Cinderella could feel livid anger like a flame warring with the ice of fear inside her stomach.

She wasn't sure what she was going to do, but one thing she would not do was bear this meekly.

People could hate her, if they wanted to, but she would neither countenance nor tolerate the innocent being put in the way.

These bleak, dark thoughts occupied Cinderella's mind all the way back to the palace, where she sat silently, and said nothing to Grace, Esme or Philippe.

The carriage came to a halt outside the palace, but before Cinderella or anyone else could even begin to dismount they were greeted by a liveried servant running down the steps.

"Your highness! Your highness!" he cried. "Oh, thank goodness you have returned! A rider was about to be sent to recall you."

"Why?" Cinderella asked anxiously. "What's happened?"

"The King," the servant gasped as he skidded to a halt. "His Majesty has collapsed."

* * *

The door opened so violently that it hit the wall with a thump as Anton strode rapidly into Frederica's study. "Your highness! There is important news."

Frederica blew on her tea, and took a sip of the steaming liquid from out of the china cup. It singed her tongue just a little. Delicately, she put the cut down on the table before she looked up at Anton. "What news?"

"There has been another attempt upon the life of Princess Cinderella."

Frederica leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap. "You work quickly, Anton. Although you might have told me you had someone ready to go at such short notice."

Anton frowned. "This was not our doing, princess."

Frederica was very still, and her expression did not move. Her mind however was moving like a galloping horse. She did not doubt for a moment that Anton was telling her the truth. She had known him since she was a little and he would comfort her when she scraped her knee, he would not lie to her now. Which meant…which meant…

 _Is there another beast in the wood? Is someone else hunting for this doe? I doubt it, my agents would have reported on such a thing if it were the case. Which means…_

"Do we know anything about this man whom we did not set to the task?"

"Only what is public knowledge, at present," Anton replied. "That the shooter is a young man, and that he eagerly claimed credit for the deed and boasted of his fame for it."

Frederica nodded. As she suspected…as she detested. This thing she had unleashed had taken on a life of its own. It had been known to happen, in Albion and even in Russia: disaffected young men, wastrels without prospects, narcissists who felt their manifest gifts were going unappreciated by the world at large, were seized by the diseased craving for notoriety which they felt would accompany a charge of high treason; still more if that treason were for the murder of a royal; still more if that royal were also a beloved and beautiful girl. God knew the world was not short of such men, such little men with evil in their hearts and rottenness in their souls who would stoop to all manner of villainies in the name of their 'fame'.

 _What have you and I unleashed upon Armorique and Cinderella, Father? What manner of sin will pour out of this box that we have opened before the end?_

The fact that she might well abet such villainy; might make use of such foul little creatures before her task was done, sickened Frederica.

 _God forgive me._

"Was she hurt?" Frederica asked.

"No, highness," Anton said. "The assailant's shot missed and he was then wounded and apprehended by the crowd before being delivered to the police."

Frederica allowed herself to breathe a little more easily. If Cinderella had died then Anton would have told her so straight away, but it was good to have it confirmed that she was unharmed.

 _Good? I rejoice in the survival of my enemy._

 _Why should I not? She has done nothing to deserve my enmity. It is hypocrisy, to be sure, but I have never claimed to not be a hypocrite._

"Thank you, Anton, for bringing me this news. It may not be our doing, but that won't stop me claiming the dubious credit for it to my father. It is another failure, but at least it proves that I am doing something. Or so it will appear to him." Frederica paused for a moment. "Was gallant Ensign Taurillion involved in any way?"

"He shot the assailant, highness."

"Not fatally, clearly."

"Winged him in the shoulder, princess."

"Ah, so he is either a crack shot or he almost missed," Frederica murmured. The truth was that she was rather enjoying the continual exploits of that young man; it gave her a good yarn to spin to her father. Every story needed a villain, and Ensign Jean Taurillion of the Royal Guard, Princess Cinderella's brutally indomitable protector, was proving to be a very good villain indeed for the narrative she was weaving before her father's eyes in their correspondence. Small wonder her best efforts were failing when the wicked witch had such a dragon standing between her and harm.

 _And of course, all the best villains are really heroes when you look at them from another angle._

And if Jean Taurillion the little boy plucked out from the alleyways bore little resemblance to the monstrous figure Frederica was building up to justify her failures, then what did that matter? It was a name; a name that investigation of the facts would prove was connected to all of Frederica and Normandie's failures. That was enough.

 _Good work, ensign; keep it up._

"I want you to keep track of the investigation into this fellow," Frederica said. "Something may emerge that we can make use of." In addition to being despicable, these little men were in some cases quite mad as well; their delusions might give her some ideas for a conspiracy to displace the blame for her activities onto. A conspiracy that could be linked to Monsieur Mordred when the time was right.

"And in the meantime," Frederica said. "Keep looking for someone else. My father's patience will soon run out again."

 _Good work, ensign; keep it up._

* * *

The staircase leading up to the King's bedchamber felt stale and stuffy, overcrowded as it was by men with long faces and sombre suits of melancholy black who gathered outside the door and down the stairs like mourners at a funeral.

Was he dead already? Was she too late? No. No, they would have told her so if he had died...but they were gathered in expectation of the event, waiting in dour silence for the door to open and the news to break.

 _Papa? Papa, please don't leave me._

Cinderella shuddered. This was different, it had to be different, this time...oh, Eugene. _Oh, poor Eugene._ If his father should pass away now, while he was far away...would it not break his heart?

 _Oh, poor Eugene._

She knew no details. Cinderella had been told almost nothing further as she was led to the royal bedchamber; she only knew that the King had collapsed, that he had been carried to bed, and that his physician had been summoned along with most of the Privy Council. Cinderella supposed that this was them, gathered outside; lining both sides of the staircase like so many dark phantoms waiting for His Majesty's ghost.

 _Papa, please don't leave me._

Cinderella took a deep breath. Courage now, she needed courage. Courage for His Majesty. With Eugene not here...although she was not his daughter, in the absence of his son...His Majesty deserved to have someone with him in his final moments, if that time had come.

 _Please, let it not be so._

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Cinderella murmured, as she lifted up the hem of her blue skirt and began to climb the stairs between the two rows of sombre gentlemen. Her skirt brushed against their legs as she climbed, and they bowed their heads to her and murmured 'your highness' or 'princess' respectfully as she passed by. Cinderella reached the small landing at the top of the stairs, before the heavy oak door which, now shut, barred the way into the king's bedroom and his presence. There, given a little space by the rest, Cinderella joined the premier, Sieur Robert, and His Grace, while one or two servants stood nearby.

"Your highness," both men said, and bowed their heads to her.

"Your Grace, Sieur Robert," Cinderella whispered, with a slight curtsy to them both. "How is he?"

His Grace's face was drawn and ashen. "Very poor, highness, though the doctor has given no details."

"I am sorry to hear of your recent travails, highness," Sieur Robert said softly.

Cinderella made a sort of flicking motion with one hand, dismissing his concerns. "That doesn't matter now, only His Majesty."

"Highness, in the event-"

The door opened, and its opening interrupted anything else that Sieur Robert might have said, as the royal physician half emerged out of the now open portal. Tall, grey and distinguished, his face held no hint of either bad news or good, it looked as stony set as any statue.

"How is he?" Cinderella demanded. "What's the matter?"

"His Majesty has had a stroke, it appears," the doctor said.

Cinderella gasped, her hands flying to her mouth like doves. "Oh no."

"Will he live?" Sieur Robert demanded.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," replied the doctor. "His condition is severe, but...it is a question of will. The longer he survives, the more likely it is that he will survive, but how likely it is...I cannot say."

 _Papa, please don't leave me._ Cinderella let out a kind of half-strangled sobbing sound. "May I...may I see him?"

Sieur Robert frowned. "Your Highness, there are important matters that-"

"What could be more important than the King's health?" Cinderella demanded.

Sieur Robert stared at her for a moment. His eyes were cold. But he said nothing until he bowed his head. "Nothing, highness."

"Doctor, can I see him?" Cinderella repeated.

The doctor nodded. "Yes, your highness."

He stepped aside, and Cinderella walked into the King's bedchamber. It was larger than hers, and like her own apartments it had other rooms branched off from it...but unlike Cinderella's chambers it was very dark. They had drawn all of the heavy purple curtains, and only a few burning candles provided any illumination at all.

"Is this necessary?" Cinderella asked. "Can't he have some light?"

"It will be dark soon in any event, highness," one of the servants standing by the King's bedside said.

"Yes," Cinderella acknowledged. "But he should have some light, while the light lasts."

 _Or perhaps it is just I who want the light?_ This darkness...it reminded her so much of that day, of another dark room, a dear man who...

 _He may not die. He may live, and even recover._ But equally he might not. And all those people out there, the lords and councillors...they were waiting for him to die. Though they stood outside, and not in the corner of the room...they were no different from her Stepmother and stepsisters, in the end.

Cinderella felt a spark of anger towards them, towards Sieur Robert and his claim that there were more important matters to be discussed. Did they care whether he lived or died, except for the inconvenience that it would cause?

She approached His Majesty's bedside. The King lay with his eyes open, but he was so still and unmoving that if it had not been for the gentle rising and falling of his chest Cinderella might have thought she was too late. They had bundled him up beneath his sheets in his enormous bed, with only his arms visible below his shoulders. His face...the sight of his face brought tears to Cinderella's eyes, the way that half his face had drooped down as though it were sloughing off him, his eye half-closed, and his mouth sagging. No trace of his good humour, his boundless energy, remained. He was barely the man that Cinderella had known.

 _Eugene should be here. He should be here in case...or perhaps not. Perhaps, if knows his son is not here, His Majesty will fight to see him one last time._

It was selfish of her, very selfish at such a time...but she didn't want to tell Eugene that his father had died while he was away. She didn't want to hurt him like that.

 _I didn't want to be here again so soon._ It was all too familiar, so familiar that Cinderella could barely stand it: the sickbed, the desperately ill man lying there...and her, helpless, powerless to do anything but sob.

 _I am a princess, and yet I'm still as helpless as I was when I was a child._

Cinderella sat down on a stool at the bedside. Tentatively, gingerly, she reached out and placed a hand atop His Majesty's own. His meaty hand dwarfed hers in size, but she could feel no strength in it, no firmness. She wondered if he could feel her as she squeezed his hand. "Your Majesty?" she said, softly but not so much that he should not have been able to hear her. "Your Majesty, can you hear me?"

His Majesty's eye, the eye that was not half-lidded as though it were sleeping, twitched and turned ever so slightly towards her.

"Do you know me, your majesty?" Cinderella asked.

One side of the King's mouth moved, but no words emerged, only murmurings so quiet that Cinderella could barely hear them.

"He cannot speak," the doctor said.

"Does he remember?" Cinderella asked, without taking her eyes off the king.

"Perhaps," the doctor said.

"You will do all you can for him?" Cinderella said, still not looking away from His Majesty. That would be different, that must be different. When she was a girl...Stepmother had...what had they called it, she and the doctor? Help his life move peacefully towards its end. For his dignity, before he suffers too much. God...it would be different this time. For Eugene's sake, for His Majesty, for...for herself, it would be different.

"Of course, your highness."

Cinderella nodded. She reached out, and stroked His Majesty's forehead. "Don't worry, your majesty; I'm going to take care of you."

"Your Highness," Sieur Robert's voice was insistent. "We must speak."

Cinderella pressed her lips against the King's hand. "I'll be back," she said gently, before rising to her feet and walking quickly out of the bedroom.

The door was pulled ajar behind her. Sieur Robert said, "I hope we are all agreed that in his present condition His Majesty is unable to exercise the duties of the sovereign."

"We must recall Prince Eugene at once," His Grace said.

"If we do that, Louisiana may be lost to us!" cried another councillor.

"His Majesty's illness is tragic, but it is no less vital that we retain our American colonies than it was yesterday!"

"Who will lead our forces, if not His Highness?"

"Who will rule as sovereign, with His Majesty thus?" demanded His Grace.

Sieur Robert said nothing, but his eyes glanced towards Cinderella.

"Me?" Cinderella murmured, one hand rising to her heart. "But I'm not-"

"You are the princess of Armorique," Sieur Robert said. "His Majesty has no brothers or sisters, nor does His Highness. To be frank and explicit you, your highness, are the only member of the royal family both present and...capable."

"Is there precedent for such a thing?" asked His Grace.

"There is precedent for everything if you go back far enough," Sieur Robert said lightly. "Your highness, I know that this is a heavy burden, shockingly delivered, but there is no one else."

"I see," Cinderella murmured. "I suppose I don't have much choice then, do I? I promise you all that I will do my best."

"That is all we can ask," Sieur Robert said. "With your permission, when His Majesty's illness is announced to the papers I will also announce a bill creating you Princess Regent, until His Majesty's health should recover or His Highness Prince Eugene should return.

"You must do what you think is best, Sieur Robert."

* * *

 _A/N: And now you see why Eugene had to go away to Louisiana! This was what I meant a couple of chapter's ago about the story moving sideways; there's a new status quo for the second half as I will try to show Cinderella navigating the use of a degree of real power and authority._

 _The assassination attempt this chapter was based on Edward Oxford, the first person to try and assassinate Queen Victoria. I did a little bit of reading about this and discovered that the people who tried to kill her were not politically motivated radicals; rather for the most part they were disaffected young men who felt unappreciated by the world and sought to gain infamy through a dramatic crime._


	30. The Gentleman of the Privy Chamber

The Gentleman of the Privy Chamber

Cinderella sat down behind the gleaming desk in the King's enormous study. All around her, paintings of Eugene stared down at her from high upon the gleaming walls. The wall facing her was completely dominated with one such, a truly giant painting, tens of times larger than its subject, of her husband posed heroically upon his white stallion, galloping forth to…to where?

Cinderella didn't know. But the sight of him, looking so noble and heroic (albeit slightly stiff as well, if she was being perfectly honest, with none of the charm or vitality that he possessed in life) gave her a little bit of comfort.

And she needed comfort now, anywhere that she could get it.

The room was enormous, but she was all alone in it.

Alone…and waiting.

Cinderella rested her elbows on the brightly polished table – so brightly polished that she could see her reflection in it – and rested her chin in her hands.

How could she do this? How could she possibly do this?

Cinderella started as she saw the red velvet curtain shift, and she managed to lean back in her chair and prevent any appearance of despair or uncertainty before a servant poked his head through the curtains.

"Highness, Princess Frederica of Normandie is here."

Cinderella rose to her feet, uncertainty being augmented now by renewed anger, now that the source of her anger had arrived. "Thank you. Show her in, please."

The curtain was drawn back. "The Princess Frederica Eugenie de la Fontaine of Normandie!"

Frederica strode through the open portal as the scarlet curtains parted before her. She wore a gown of grey, a dark and muted contrast to Cinderella's white, and yet once Cinderella got over her initial surprise to see a princess garbed in such a drab colour, she found that Frederica wore it well. It even suited her, to an extent; and the emeralds around her neck and dangling about her wrists more than offset the impression of drabness, in any event.

Cinderella herself was less bejewelled. It didn't seem appropriate, somehow, to adorn herself too much with Eugene away. Only a black choker, with three diamond studs dangling from it, embraced her throat.

"Cinderella, how lovely you look," Frederica declared as she crossed the tiled floor of the study towards the white table. "May I still call you Cinderella, in spite of your recent elevation?"

"You may call me what you wish, Frederica," Cinderella replied in a tone of chilly courtesy.

Frederica smiled as she sat down. "You are very kind to say so. I don't know whether to offer you congratulations or commiserations."

"The latter would be more appropriate, I think," Cinderella said, as she too resumed her seat. "His Majesty's condition is terribly unfortunate."

"In all respects, yes," Frederica murmured. "How are you holding up beneath the burdens of regency?"

Cinderella pursed her lips. "With respect, Princess Frederica, I didn't ask you here to talk about that."

"Princess Frederica? Are we to be formal again, then? Should I call you Princess Cinderella, or would you prefer Princess Regent?"

Cinderella was silent for a moment. "Somebody tried to kill me the other day. Again."

"Yes, I'm well aware," Frederica murmured. "It got rather overshadowed by King Louis' ill-health, but I heard about it nonetheless. You have my sympathy for any distress you suffered and my gladness that you were unharmed. Your young ensign is proving his worth as an investment, isn't he?"

Ordinarily, Cinderella would have rebuked and rebutted the suggestion that Jean was a mere investment on her part, but she was too desirous to get this over with - and growing too annoyed by Frederica's manner, which was coming to seem more and more infuriatingly disingenuous - to stop and say so. Instead, in a tone as cold as winter, she said, "My stepson was in the carriage with me that day."

Frederica was silent for a moment. Her face lost all traces of its former playfulness of expression. Her green eyes even widened just a little. Her hands balled up in her lap. "I...I am sorry to hear that. Since it was not reported that the young duke was hurt I can only hope that he was not unduly frightened by the experience."

Cinderella took a deep breath as she leaned across the table. "Princess Frederica, whatever I may have done to offend you-"

"Let me stop you there, if I may," Frederica declared, raising one hand to forestall any further speech on Cinderella's part. "You appear to be labouring under a misapprehension about me which comes, I suspect, from listening to Colonel Etienne Gerard."

Cinderella's mouth tightened for a moment. "It was my husband, Prince Eugene, who told me that it was you who shot at me on my wedding day, and sent a man to the Anti-Corn Law League to attack me there as well."

"And where did he come by that misapprehension?" Frederica asked. "From Colonel Gerard, his good friend, and so it all comes to the same thing. Cinderella, I did not do this thing. I bear you no malice; I do not wish you dead. I am the victim of slanders founded upon ill-considered conclusions."

"Why should I believe you?" Cinderella demanded. "Over my own husband and his trusted friend?"

"Just because he's trusted doesn't mean that he doesn't make mistakes," Frederica said. "Put aside the character of my accusers for a moment and examine for yourself the evidence for my guilt. Is there a shred of evidence for my guilt?"

Cinderella said nothing. She could not quite meet Frederica's eyes. It was true, there was no evidence or if there was Eugene had never shared it with her. To her anger was added a creeping sense of shame, slithering into the house of her emotions like a serpent.

"And for what reason am I accused of plotting these calamities?" Frederica continued. "Because I am so jealous that it is you, not I, who married Prince Eugene that I am consumed with a desire to murder you? As I told the prince himself: he's not that much of a catch."

"If you are so innocent then why-"

"I don't know?" Frederica cried. "Because you should have asked Colonel Gerard that before you summoned me here so that you could accuse me of things of which I am innocent."

"I didn't ask you to come here so that I could accuse you-" Cinderella began.

"Then why am I here?" Frederica demanded. "To bear slanders against my name and character."

"I asked you here so that I could tell you something," Cinderella replied. "If you hate me, if you want to hurt me, then...then I don't like it but...but there's nothing I can really do to stop you. But I won't tolerate any harm coming to Philippe. He's an innocent child; he shouldn't be hurt or even put in harm's way, because of our quarrel."

Frederica blinked, and cocked her head a little to one side like a bird. "Supposing for a moment, only supposing, that we had a quarrel...you don't consider yourself to be an innocent in all this?"

"If I was innocent," Cinderella replied softly. "We wouldn't have a quarrel."

"No, we wouldn't," Frederica said. "And we don't, because you are innocent and, as I have told you and your husband, so am I; of the things of which I am accused, at any rate. I did not do this thing."

"If you did you wouldn't tell me, would you?"

"Possibly not," Frederica said. "But if I was your enemy, which I am not, then I would like to think that I would be more subtle about it than your ham-handed enemies have been thus far. And I would not harm an innocent child just to get to you."

"Good," Cinderella said. "Please keep it that way."

"I told you I...oh, why bother repeating myself," Frederica murmured. "Can I ask you something? Is it true you threw yourself in front of the boy to protect him?"

Cinderella gave only the faintest of nods in assent.

"You're very brave."

"Not particularly."

"Don't undervalue yourself, there are plenty of people who will happily do that for you," Frederica declared. "One more question, if I may: you plead for his life, but not your own? Why? He isn't even your son."

"Perhaps I understand better than most how little that ought to matter?" Cinderella replied. "Perhaps I understand better than many how it feels to be treated as something less because I was not her daughter?"

"Perhaps," Frederica replied. "Or perhaps you are simply a noble spirit. Nature versus nurture, a fascinating debate with no clear answer." She pushed back her chair. "May I go now?"

"Yes, of course," Cinderella said. "Although...please bear in mind what I said."

"Still not convinced of my innocence, I see."

"Does it really matter?" Cinderella asked. "Whatever happens...don't hurt him."

Frederica looked at her for a moment. "You may not appreciate this from me, but...the crown can be a heavy burden. If you ever need any assistance, or even just some advice...I will do all I can for you."

Cinderella's eyes widened, if only a little. "Why would you say such a thing?"

Frederica said, "Because...you impress me, considering where you started. I suppose...I'd like to see where you end up."

The crown can be a heavy burden… Cinderella certainly found that out as the days lengthened. Eugene had told her once that her new life would be no less tiring than her old life of service and drudgery…she had to confess that she hadn't quite believed him at the time but now, now she sometimes felt as though he might have underselling the point just a bit.

There was so much to do, no wonder it had driven His Majesty to his bed with the strain of it. She woke up just before five o'clock every morning, and spent about half an hour with Angelique and the early-risers among the mice before her morning tea was brought to her. If she had not gotten much chance to spend a great deal of time with them before those opportunities were far lessened now, so that if she wanted to interact with them she had few options but to rise ridiculously early and to ask them to do the same. Jaq did, every morning, but the others did not do so and it was a lottery of who would greet her that day. At least they had the option of going to bed again afterwards.

At half-past five, Duchamp brought her a pot of tea, a plate of pastries, and the morning newspapers. Cinderella was very sorry to have to get her up so early, but without tea her mind would still be asleep and she couldn't afford to get up any later. She had taken advantage of her authority as Princess Regent, and thus ultimate arbiter of such things, to increase Duchamp's salary just a bit to make up for the extra work; she had warned Duchamp that it might not be permanent, but then neither would the early mornings, hopefully.

Duchamp wasn't the only one whom Cinderella asked to rise early and who thankfully obliged her: her ladies-in-waiting joined her for breakfast in the sitting room – Cinderella didn't bother using the dining room for breakfast, as she had no real desire to eat alone – as they read through the newspapers and discussed what was said about Cinderella, the court, the government, or anything else that might be of interest. Augustina talked the most during these morning sessions, and spoke intelligently too for the most part, but when she could be drawn out of her shell Marinette proved to have some canny insights as well: after several days of reporting on some impecunious dealings of his it was Marinette who correctly predicted that the Postmaster-General would resign, whereas Augustina was certain that the story would die down and he would cling to office. Marinette also proved to understand sums and accounts better than any of the rest of them.

By the time that they were finished with that it was usually about half-past six, and Duchamp was summoned again – Cinderella liked to imagine that she got a bit of a nap in the interim – to draw Cinderella's bath and help her wash and dress for the day. Cinderella's dress…since being confirmed by a somewhat reluctant Assembly as Princess Regent until Eugene returned – or His Majesty recovered, her fashion of dress had changed somewhat. It had become duller. Not perhaps in colour – although there were fewer pink touches in evidence than there had been wont to be – but more in style, in the absence of decoration, bows or flowers, fewer off-the-shoulder collars. Her clothes were plainer; one might even say they were more grown-up. Cinderella most often wore her hair in a tight bun at the nape of the neck like a librarian of a certain age, and she wore little jewellery unless it was a tiara to remind the world of her new status and the responsibilities that accompanied it.

And what responsibilities piled up and piled upon her. Every morning, once she was dressed, Cinderella called upon His Majesty in his bedroom. She helped to change his bed, if it needed changing; and she changed his clothes too and helped get him ready for his breakfast. Many voices had pressed upon her the fact that it was unnecessary, and it certainly was, there were many others who could have done such work…but he was Cinderella's father-in-law and his son was not here and she felt an obligation to do something, not just leave him in the care of servants paid to care for him (although, as Cinderella soon found, most of these servants were not actually servants at all; they were called Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber and they were much the equivalent of her ladies in waiting; this didn't really change Cinderella's attitude towards helping with His Majesty in any way, although it meant she was glad that she had not been inconsiderate towards them). And besides, this was handy work, servant work…her kind of work. It was something she could do to start the day and be sure she was getting it right. Twice a week she met with Sieur Robert to discuss political developments in the country and the world at large. These were intended to be brief meetings – as evinced by the fact that in the room where they met there was only a single chair, for the sovereign, a choice made to encourage ministers to be quick about it; but Cinderella had so much to catch up on that the meetings took so long that she was obliged to provide him with a chair regardless of tradition.

Once a week Cinderella chaired a full meeting of the Privy Council…chaired in a nominal sense, at least. She sat in a throne-like chair at the head of a long table, and heard from all the ministers of state. But she did not lead them. She did not know enough to lead them. At times she felt as though she were trying to compete in a race where everyone else had a head start of hours, she counted herself lucky if she left the meeting having understood everything that was said there. It was absurd, really: she felt as though she was drowning beneath the weight of information that she was required to absorb, she felt as though every meeting only reinforced her ignorance…and yet nothing could be done without her approval, many things could not even be started without her instigation, for all that she was effectively being told most of the time what she ought and ought not to instigate. Wasn't it ridiculous?

Almost as ridiculous as the idea of a scullery maid running the country.

But she was determined to do her best; to do, if it were possible, a good job. For Eugene, for herself, and because…because if she failed at this then she would have proved everyone who had ever looked at her as an unworthy match for Eugene to have been absolutely right all along.

Every day there was a box full of government papers to read through, and read through them all Cinderella diligently did. Some of them she had to sign, in some cases sign into law, and her hand trembled as she scrawled a barely legible signature upon the documents and stamped them with the royal seal.

Then there were appointments to make, both in the royal household and in the government. Sometimes, such as with the Postmaster-General, Sieur Robert presented her with a name and Cinderella approved it to replace the fellow who had resigned. Other times, such as when the Bishopric of St Malo became suddenly vacant, she had many names to choose from, and sometimes, when it came time to appoint a new Lord Lieutenant of the Lorient, no list at all.

"You should enjoy this," Angelique said to her. "Not…not the circumstances, but…do you not enjoy this at all?"

"Is there anything in particular that you think should be enjoyable?" Cinderella replied.

"All of these appointments!" Angelique cried. "Just think about it! Think about what you were, just a few months ago and now look at you. Not just a princess, but…can't you just imagine how it looks to all of those puffed up lords and ladies who look down on people like you, to see you appointing ministers and bishops and lords lieutenant. You're showing the world, princess! Don't you just love it?"

Cinderella's smile was wan. "I'm afraid it's all just a little too heavy on my shoulders for me to take pleasure in it, Angelique."

"I understand," Angelique murmured. "I'll try and enjoy it enough for both of us then."

Cinderella chuckled. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."

Breakfast, because it was served so early in the morning, was light, and so lunch was served just a little earlier than noon. It was not too heavy, because Cinderella did not eat enough for any meal to be called heavy, and she took it in the King's chamber, where she talked to him about everything that was going on in Armorique and in the world, and everything that she had done that morning. A little after noon - and Cinderella ate quickly enough that she was finished by this time - His Majesty's own meal was brought, and Cinderella gently spooned the soup into his mouth as he was propped up in bed by servants. She wasn't sure if he really understood what she was telling him, it was hard to say for sure, but she was sure that he must appreciate the company. She read to him for an hour or two after that, as long as she could spare: His Grace told her that His Majesty had a passion for Livy, and so they were working their way through that author's History of Rome. Cinderella probably wasn't reading it very well, but…but she hoped that he appreciated her being there.

Sometimes their time together was cut short by some business, sometimes not, but Cinderella insisted upon at least an hour each day with His Majesty. Then she returned to her lessons, for her own responsibilities had not ceased upon her assumption of new ones. She dined with her ladies, not in the dining room but around a round table like the knights of Albion of old set up in one of the sitting rooms near the kitchen. Sometimes Philippe and his grandmother would join them, but at other times Philippe would be busy with lessons of his own and could not come down at a convenient time. Nevertheless Cinderella would see him after dinner, and spend some time with him before he went to bed. Then she wrote to Eugene, and did some more reading about trade, politics, or the condition of the people. Then she spent perhaps half an hour with her ladies-in-waiting, then a little time with the mice, amongst whom and in whose company some of her worries and her tensions of the day began to ebb away, dissolved in the face of their support and good humour. With their help, no matter how tired she felt, Cinderella nevertheless went to bed looking forward towards another day.

She wasn't sure what she would have done without them.

On one especially busy day Cinderella's afternoon was spent in the harbour launching a new warship, the appropriately named _Princess_ ; the result of this was that she had work to catch up on in the evening; she was not able to dine with her ladies, but ate alone in her room and gave them the evening off to visit their families or otherwise do as they liked. It was at the end of this day, as she ate alone and read alone, that Cinderella learned that one of the Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber, the colourfully named Groom of the Stool, was unable to carry out his duties. Cinderella also learned that it would be up to her, as Princess Regent, to name a replacement.

When she first learned this, Cinderella did not initially comprehend that it was a position that anyone would want.

* * *

"This will not do at all, Marinette," Madame Gerard declared with an air of authority, or at least an air that wished to be authoritative. "In all this time you have made no attempt at all to redeem the fortunes of our family."

"No, Maman," Marinette murmured, as she picked half-heartedly at her chicken breast. She had hoped, when she went home for supper with mother and Lucien, that Maman would have been happy enough to see her that they could avoid this question of extracting money out of Cinderella. Especially since it wasn't even wholly true to say that she was getting nothing out of her: Cinderella had very generously given her – given the entire family – a stipend so that they could pay for the maid to stay longer and look after mother now that Marinette was away. But things like that weren't what Maman had in mind. She wanted things back the way they had been when father was alive and that…Marinette didn't have it in her to ask for that much.

"I must say I have begun to wonder what the point of you remaining in your position is if you are going to acquire neither wealth nor influence," Madame Gerard continued.

"I'm happy there, Maman," Marinette pointed out. It had been…it had been much better than she had expected at first. Cinderella was so kind, and she quite liked Angelique as well, for all that she could be a bit of a rough diamond at times. Two friends were more than she had had in quite some time…it wasn't something that she wanted to turn her back on.

"And what is that worth to the family?" Madame Gerard demanded. "We cannot survive upon your happiness."

Marinette glanced across the table to where Lucien was eating with gusto. She hoped that he would say something to defend her…but he didn't. He hadn't said much all evening, really, nor had mother said very much to him. Marinette felt a twinge of resentment, why wasn't he being asked what he was doing to restore the fortunes of the Gerard family.

She frowned, every so slightly; that was very mean of her. There wasn't very much Lucien could do, sensitive and delicate as he was, it was wrong of her to expect too much of him. Wrong and unkind.

All the same, she had to wonder to herself…only to herself, she would never say so…whether he couldn't do a little more than he did.

No, no, if he could do more then he would have, surely. And she was glad that Maman didn't ask him for too much…she had a bad feeling that if Lucien was asked to help restore the family fortunes he would go straight to Cinderella and beg it from her, and Marinette didn't want that. Especially now, when Cinderella had so much else going on.

"Perhaps, if Etienne is successful in the war-"

"Oh, good heavens, girl, I cannot put my hopes on that!" Madame Gerard explained. "Playing soldiers, is this a thing to build hopes on? And on Etienne, no less. Such a disappointment, no; we can put no hopes on Etienne."

"You're very hard on him, Maman," Marinette murmured. "He doesn't deserve it. He's a good man."

"Then why has he deserted us and absconded to the colonies?"

"He's serving his country."

"He is abandoning his responsibilities to this family! Oh! Speak no more of Etienne to me, girl, my nerves cannot withstand it! There are more important matters to discuss. You have another chance to advance our position in society and you must take it! You must!"

Marinette bowed her head, letting some of her chestnut curls descend over her face a little to hide it from her mother's sight. "Maman…Cinderella…the Princess Regent has so many concerns now that-"

"Oh, hang her and her concerns!" Madame Gerard cried. "What good is she if she is no help to us? You must prevail upon her to appoint Lucien to the vacant position of Groom of the Stool."

Now Lucien sat up and took notice. His eyes boggled a little with surprise, and Marinette took an almost unkind degree of pleasure in how shocked and, indeed, unhappy he looked at the idea. "Groom…of the Stool?"

"You will be in attendance upon His Majesty at all times, you will assist him in his most intimate moments," Madame Gerard explained. "And at all such times you may whisper in his ear of our family and our deplorable condition."

"His Majesty isn't hearing many people now, as I understand it," Lucien murmured.

"Well, he's bound to get better some time," Madame Gerard declared blithely. "And if he does not then there will be a new king for you to serve."

Lucien frowned. His face was pinched with a lack of enthusiasm. "It sounds very…unpleasant."

"Lucien," Madame Gerard groaned. "Lucien, my good boy, my sweet boy, my last hope. Please don't take such an attitude. You won't let me down, will you? You won't fail me after my other children have already proven to be such disappointments?"

"Maman, I'm not sure that-"

"Hush, girl!" Madame Gerard hissed. "Lucien, my boy, please. For your poor mother, who is so forlorn and neglected here?"

Marinette's frown deepened. She wasn't at all sure that Lucien would be a good fit for the position, nor that mother was pressing it upon him in the right…actually no, she was absolutely approaching it in the spirit that everyone else would be approaching it too, although of course that didn't mean that she or anyone else had the right attitude. And she was very, very unsure that Lucien would enjoy himself in such a role. It would be hard work, and quite possibly disgusting work as well, and Lucien was very sensitive to that sort of thing.

But…she supposed that it would give him a modest income, and he might not have to beg from Cinderella or Etienne in that case. And he'd get the chance to see Cinderella more often, and they seemed to enjoy each other's company.

That thought seemed to occur to Lucien as well, as he leaned back in his chair and said, "Would I be living in the palace, in that case?"

"Oh, yes! I should be sad to see less of you, but it would be for the good of the family."

Lucien smiled charmingly. "Then I will gladly accept the position, if the position is offered to me."

"Oh, Lucien! I knew that you, at least, would not let me down. Marinette, you must prevail upon the princess. All our hopes for success and fortune now rest upon your shoulders. Don't let me down again."

"Thank you, mother," Marinette murmured. "I appreciate your confidence."

* * *

"So," Serena said, as a smirk played across her features. "How do you fancy being Groom of the Stool?"

Anatole cringed as he put down his glass of port. He shifted a little in the luxurious red armchair in which he was ensconced. "Not a great deal. Although I understand the advantages of the position."

"You'd have the ear of the king," Serena reminded him.

"Yes, that isn't the only thing of His Majesty's that I would have for some time-"

"Well, if you're going to take that attitude, dear brother mine-"

Anatole chuckled. "Yes, I'd take the post if I was asked. The good outweighs the bad, as much as it may seem otherwise. The…opportunities for advancement outweigh the revolting things I might have to do in the course of obtaining that advancement."

"I'm sorry to have to ask you to dirty your hands literally as well as metaphorically," Serena murmured. "But it's all for the good of the family, in the end."

Anatole grinned. "The good of the family, sister? Or for you?"

Serena's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

Anatole picked up a bumper of port off the table beside his chair and took a sip from it. He was quiet, quiet enough that Serena could hear the fire crackling beside them. "Take advantage of the princess, of course. Gain advantage from her friendship, certainly. Pretend to be her friend to smooth the way, why not? But destroy her? How does that benefit the family? How does that benefit anyone but you and your pride?"

"You think I want to see her gone just for my sake?"

"Is there a larger reason?"

"Wouldn't it benefit the family if I were princess of this country?"

"Of course," Anatole said. "But His Highness never wanted to marry you before."

Serena's mouth tightened. "Where does this come from? Are you getting cold feet all of a sudden?"

Anatole got up from his armchair, and walked across the living room in which they were settled. He loomed over Serena in her own seat, blocking out the firelight. "If you are caught," he said. "The mercy extended to Theodora may not be extended to you as well. If you're caught-"

"I won't be caught, I'm going to win."

"If you are caught," Anatole repeated. "I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I'm already hurt," Serena declared. "I've been hurt ever since he chose her over me."

"Serena-"

"Is this you're way of telling me that you're done?" she demanded.

Anatole stared down at her for a moment. "No," he said, turning away. "While you're in, sister, then so am I. I don't think it will be long now; the absence of Prince Eugene is making Lucien bolder. It shouldn't be too hard to persuade him to make a more serious move, whether she gives any indicator that she wants one or not."

"Good," Serena muttered. She had wondered, when this thing began, whether Cinderella would be receptive to the possibility of an affair, but she had long since come to the conclusion that that was a horse that would not run. She was too much in love, both with the prince and with the idea of her own virtue, to even contemplate the idea even with her husband away and her bed turning cold. Not that that mattered; if Lucien were to impose on Cinderella, well…nobody ever believed a woman's word over a man's in cases like that. Her reputation would be ruined beyond repair. Provided Lucien had the strength of will to do what was required of him.

"Although I shall become…" Anatole sighed. "Groom of the Stool first."

"You shall, with luck," Serena said. "I'm trying to think who will provide real competition. It can only come from Grace. Augustina loathes her stepbrother so she will not champion him; Angelique has no family at all and not even Cinderella would make that stray dog of hers a gentleman of the privy chamber; Marinette is far too mild mannered and timid to press the case for Lucien Gerard even if he wanted it."

"I can't see him wanting it," Anatole said as he sat down. "Although…might it not be better if he did. He'd have more access to the princess."

"Access doesn't seem to be a problem of his, particularly," Serena said. "How does he do it, anyway? There's a guard on the princess' bedroom door and it hasn't slowed him at all."

Anatole took another drink of port. "Honestly? Secret passages."

Serena snorted. "You're serious?"

"So he tells me, although he won't tell me how to find them," Anatole said. "They're his secret apparently; he found them when he was snooping around once. They let him get practically anywhere he wants."

Serena chuckled. "So Angelique was right and Augustina was wrong. Who would have guessed? Anyway, I'd rather have you in a position of influence than give Lucien a slightly easier time of it."

"I'm sure Father would be glad to hear you say that."

"I'm sure he would," Serena replied. "So don't worry, I'll make sure that Cinderella appoints the right candidate to the post."

"What about Grace? She has brothers, doesn't she?"

"Brothers and cousins and enough relatives to crew a ship of the line," Serena said. "But don't worry: if I can't outdo Grace du Villeroi for charm and sweetness then I should really stop trying and come home."

* * *

Cinderella stifled a mild yawn behind one hand.

"Cinderelly gettin' tired?" Jaq asked.

Cinderella looked at him, standing between two of her fingers. "Of all people, Jaq, I thought that you would know me better than that. I've been spoiled by these late mornings, that's all. Once I get used to it again, I'll be fine."

Jaq tilted his head sideways. "Mesa know how strong Cinderelly is, but wesa worry anyway because we care about Cinderelly, that's all."

Cinderella smiled. "I know, Jaq; and I appreciate it, believe me. But I can manage. This isn't the first time I've had a lot to do."

Jaq nodded. "Wish that there was some way mesa could help Cinderelly, like we used to."

"Well, now that you say that," Angelique said from where she sat against the wall near the balcony door.

Cinderella's eyes narrowed as she glanced at her. "I have a feeling that I know what you're about to say, Angelique."

"I sleep on the floor with a bit stick because you're afraid that creepers are going to sneak into your room in the middle of the night," Angelique declared. "What's worse is that you're absolutely right to be afraid of that because somebody is getting in here and the guard on the door doesn't even see them coming. This is getting out of hand."

"Whatcha talkin' about, Angelicky?" Jaq asked.

Cinderella sighed. "It's really nothing, Jaq, don't-"

"It isn't nothing!" Angelique declared. "It's far from nothing. You haven't told them?"

"Angelique-"

"You asked me to be honest," Angelique said flatly. "When you first took me into your service, and later when you told me not to lie to you again."

"What's goin' on?" Jaq demanded.

"Those love letters are still coming," Angelique said. "They're coming thicker and faster than ever and no one can keep them out. If you watched-"

"Gotcha, Angelicky," Jaq said. "Mesa keep watch and see who comin' in to Cinderelly's room and how they doin' it, and then-"

"No, Jaq," Cinderella said.

"Why not?" Angelique asked. "Don't you want this to end?"

"Of course I do, but…" Cinderella hesitated. "I don't want to be the sort of person who takes advantage of my friends. That isn't who I am…at least I hope not. It isn't who I want to be."

"Mesa not mind, Cinderelly."

"I know Jaq, and that's very sweet of you," Cinderella murmured. "But it's also not the point. Just because you wouldn't mind being used doesn't that I would be alright using you."

"And yet you…"

"And yet I what? Please go on, Angelique."

Angelique frowned. "Nothing. I…" she paused again. "What if there was another way to get to the bottom of this? One that didn't involve using Jaq or the others?"

Jaq folded his arms. "Mesa wanted to help Cinderelly."

Cinderella stroked his cheek with one finger. "Just your being here helps me so much, Jaq. What do you have in mind?"

"Write back and tell this person that you've been won over. Ask him to meet with you…in the gardens, somewhere. Somewhere with bushes. Set a time, and when you go there Jean and I will be hidden, waiting. Other people as well, if you want and we can all fit. Then, when he turns up, we can grab him."

Cinderella pursed her lips. "I don't know…it seems rather dishonest. And I'm not sure that I want to encourage this person."

"Discouraging him hasn't done you much good."

"But what would people say if they found out that I was replying to love letters from another man?"

"I don't know," Angelique admitted. "I'd hope they wouldn't find out, but…this can't go on. Jaq, what do you think?"

"Mesa think I could just keep lookin' out for them," Jaq said.

Cinderella chuckled. "Oh, Jaq. Thank you so much, but…let me think about it, both of you. Don't do anything until I've had a chance to think."

Shortly thereafter Duchamp arrived with breakfast, and not very long after that Cinderella's ladies joined her to break their fast upon viennoiseries prepared by the skilled pastry chefs of the palace kitchens.

Cinderella picked up this morning's copy of the _Courier_ , which it was her habit to read first because it so often that had something negative to say about her. It was ironic, that Eugene had declared the _Breton Gazette_ to be the paper which never had a good word to say about the monarchy, but Cinderella found that it was often her staunchest supporter; the _Courier_ by contrast seemed to set out to smear her reputation daily.

Sure enough she found an article accusing her of not being socially active enough, criticising her for shutting herself away with only a limited circle of what the newspaper called cronies.

The substance was undeniable – although Cinderella preferred the word 'friends' – but it was a little rich considering that they had been criticising her for extravagance not long ago.

 _I wish they'd make up their mind about what they wanted._

"How can I please these people?" Cinderella murmured.

"When news of one of Prince Eugene's victories arrives, you could throw a gala to celebrate," Augustina suggested.

"Do you think that would be appropriate?"

"If you can't celebrate a military triumph in the midst of war then what is acceptable cause for celebration?" Augustina replied. "You could also throw something grand for your birthday when it comes around."

Cinderella's brow furrowed a little. She didn't really feel like throwing any grand ball or gala in Eugene's absence, both because she felt that she probably wouldn't enjoy it without him, but also because it felt more than a little disrespectful to Eugene, and to all the men who had gone with him, to throw parties when they were risking their lives abroad.

On the other hand, when Eugene won a victory…the idea of celebrating it, and of having the whole country celebrate it too, did have some appeal for her.

"I…I'll consider it, Augustina, thank you," Cinderella murmured.

"C-Cinderella," Marinette stammered.

"Yes, Marinette?" Cinderella asked. "Marinette, whatever is the matter?"

Marinette's face had turned bright red, she looked as though she was in incredible distress. Cinderella almost got up to go to her, something was clearly wrong with the poor dear, but Marinette raised a hand to forestall Cinderella's movement.

"I…I'm sorry to have to ask, but…have you thought at all about…about who…about who you'll appoint as the new Groom of the Stool?"

Cinderella wondered if it had been the name that was embarrassing Marinette. "No, I haven't. I'm not at all sure who I ought to choose. Apparently there isn't even a list."

Marinette looked very unhappy to hear that. "I think…perhaps…"

"What I think she's trying to say is that she wants you to give the post to her brother Lucien," Augustina remarked, with just a touch of acid on her tongue.

Marinette bowed her head. "Yes," she said, in a very quiet voice.

Cinderella leaned forward. "Marinette? Are you…are you ashamed of yourself?"

"Yes," Marinette said, even more quietly.

Cinderella laughed. "Don't worry, Marinette. I'm not angry and I don't bite. Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber are…well, they're gentlemen, aren't they? Thank you for giving me a name to think about."

"With respect, Cinderella, Lucien Gerard is a good and witty fellow but he's hardly the sort of name that you should be considering for such an exalted position," Serena said. "No offence, Marinette, but your brother doesn't give the impression of being a hard worker or a particularly deep thinker. Unlike my brother Anatole."

Grace snorted. "Are you implying that Anatole is a deep thinker?"

"What are you implying?"

"That he isn't, obviously," Grace said. "Don't get me wrong, he's a perfectly affable fellow, but you can't honestly try to present him as some sort of intellectual."

Serena gasped as she folded her arms across her chest. "Aha! I resent this most strongly! I suppose you have someone in mind from your family that should be granted this great honour?"

"Someone? I have a whole shortlist if Cinderella would like to see it."

"That's very kind of you, Grace, but not entirely necessary," Cinderella murmured. To tell the truth, she wasn't sure that Lucien would enjoy the kind of work that being Groom of the Stool would foist upon him. It seemed more like the sort of thing that his mother might have in mind for some vague notion of prestige, and that wasn't the sort of spirit that Cinderella felt appropriate, especially with His Majesty in such a state.

But then, couldn't that be said of Serena's brother and Grace's list of relatives. She doubted that any of them were particularly enthusiastic about serving the King. They wanted the influence that came from being close to his ear. That was almost certainly the reason these position were staffed by gentlemen instead of servants. And yet…with His Majesty in such a state she would have preferred to give the post to someone who would treat him with kindness and consideration in his infirmity.

Sadly, such a paragon had yet to reveal himself to her.

"Thank you both for giving me some names to consider," Cinderella continued. She smiled as she looked at Angelique. "You don't want me to make Jean the Groom, I hope?"

Angelique laughed. "Don't worry, Cinderella, I wouldn't be so cruel to him."

"Serena, Grace, Marinette, would you ask Lucien and Anatole and one person, please, Grace, to come and see me this afternoon? I'd like to get an idea of who the best person for the post would be."

"That…is an unusual way of dispensing patronage," Augustina murmured.

"Perhaps," Cinderella said. "But that doesn't mean that it's necessarily the wrong way."

Lucien was the first to arrive, and he soon confirmed Cinderella's suspicions that he didn't really want to take up this position, whatever its advantages might be.

"Alas, no," he confessed. "But mother is insistent. She feels the shame of our fall from grace immensely. She thinks of nothing but restoring our family to is former glory."

Cinderella sighed. "I'm very sorry that she's in such a state, but I have to try and choose the best person for His Majesty, not for the person taking up the post. And…I'm just not sure you'd be the best person to assist His Majesty."

"Thank God you think so," Lucien declared, with a grin. "I could barely sleep a wink last night for fear that you'd pick me and I would actually have to do it."

"It worries you that much?"

"I, honestly, can't say that I would be able to fulfil the responsibilities," Lucien said. "The only reason I was even slightly in favour was because I'd get to see even more of you."

Cinderella giggled. "That's a terrible reason for wanting to join the King's household. And I'm not even sure that it's true."

"It isn't?"

"You'd have a great many responsibilities from the King to keep you busy."

"Oh, well now I'm especially glad you're not going to give it to me," Lucien said with a smile. "It sounds almost as if it might deprive me of your company."

"It isn't as though you need a post in the palace to visit me," Cinderella said. "You already come whenever you like."

"You don't mind that, do you?"

"No, of course not."

"Good, because if you did then…I don't know what I'd do without your company to lighten my day."

"You make your life sound such a trial," Cinderella declared. "You must be exaggerating, and cruelly to other people too."

"You cannot imagine it," Lucien said. "Especially since I stopped gambling."

"You have stopped then?" Cinderella asked. "And you've stayed stopped?"

"Did I not promise I would?"

"Yes, of course you did, I'm very sorry," Cinderella replied. "And…while I think we're both agreed that being the new Groom of the Stool isn't for you, perhaps I could find you something else that would please your mother. Let me think about it, and I'll let Marinette know if there's any news."

Lucien leapt off the settee. "You are as generous as you are kind, and as kind as you are beautiful."

Cinderella shook her head. "Don't flatter me before I've done anything yet."

Grace's brother was next, and while he had great strength that might have been helpful in assisting His Majesty to the privy, especially in his current condition, Cinderella was less impressed by his seeming lack of delicacy and consideration. Not only did it feel like he was going to wrench her arm off when he grabbed her hand to kiss it, but having pulled her off her seat and left Cinderella with a sore arm and an aching hand, he showed no inclination to apologise for what he'd done nor even to understand that he should. Cinderella didn't really like the idea of leaving Eugene's father in the care of someone who might prove to be as much a pain as his ailments, and was very much inclined not to give him the appointment.

Which meant that Anatole de Montcalm was looking like the strong favourite even before he walked into the sitting room and sat down opposite Cinderella.

"If I'm not mistaken, your highness, this is the first time we've met since the ball to celebrate your return from your honeymoon."

"Yes, I think that's right," Cinderella replied. "We had one dance together, if I recall."

"That's right," Anatole said. He smiled. "You danced very well."

"So did you," Cinderella said. Her own smile illuminated the room for but a moment before it faded. "It's funny…it all seems so long ago now. So much has happened."

"To you, certainly," Anatole said. "Serena has told me some of what's been going on here, I don't know how you've held up under the strain."

"Serena's been a great help," Cinderella said. "Without her support I probably wouldn't have managed."

Anatole chuckled. "Ever since we were children Serena has had a way of helping you carry on when you thought you couldn't."

"And you?" Cinderella asked. "Did you need her help that way?"

"No," Anatole said quickly. "Not me, but others."

"I see," Cinderella said. "So, Anatole…do you mind if I call you Anatole?"

"Not at all, your highness."

"Anatole…do you see this position solely as a means to advance yourself and your family?"

"I see this position as a way to serve the King, the highest honour to which a gentleman may aspire."

"Even when the service may be…unpleasant?"

"There is no deed too base that I would not do it gladly in the service of the throne and of His Majesty."

Cinderella blinked at that. Nobody…she'd never heard anyone speak like that since she came to the palace, the only person who came close was Jean and even he didn't take it that far. It was rather surprising. "Do you mean that?"

"Is not the King as a father to his country and his people?" Anatole asked. "Is the Head of State not the fount of all stability and prosperity? Why, then, should I who love my country not love the Father of the Country as I do my own father, and as I would care for my father if he was will so am I willing to care too for the father of us all, to devote myself to him just as he devotes himself to the country."

"That…that's very selfless of you, Anatole," Cinderella said. She smiled. "Yes, those are lovely sentiments."

"I only regret that circumstances have not allowed me to demonstrate my devotion by deeds as well as words," Anatole said.

"Until now," Cinderella said.

Anatole was silent for a moment. "Your highness…you mean…?"

"I think you'll make a fine addition to the Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber, Anatole de Montcalm," Cinderella said.

* * *

 _Author's Note: At the end of Frozen there is a bit where Anna makes Kristoff the Royal Ice-man or Ice Deliverer or something; the exact name of his title escapes my recollection. I really like that bit because, although it feels very cartoony, it's actually very accurate to the way royal patronage worked during…the period when royals exercised patronage: specifically as a means of giving jobs, salaries and prestigious positions that might or might not require any work to people they liked._

 _The main reason this chapter exists is because, having given Cinderella these royal powers, I wanted to show her using the power of patronage that she commands. We'll see a little more of this going forward._

 _The other reason is that I wanted to let Serena and Anatole win something, because they haven't really achieved much so far beyond goading Lucien into upsetting or frightening Cinderella (I suppose Serena might get a degree of malicious pleasure from the fact that Angelique now has to sleep on the floor, but it doesn't advance her goals at all)._

 _I always knew that Lucien was using secret passages in the palace to achieve his nigh-magical powers of apparition, and I decided it was high time I actually revealed that fact to you the readers._


	31. Black Hand

Black Hand

Lucien raised his glass. "So. Here's to the new Groom of the Stool, then? When do you start?"

"In a couple of days, once the appointment is officially finalised," Anatole said, as he drank to his own health. "No hard feelings, I take it?"

"No indeed, you're welcome to that awful job," Lucien declared. "You must have made a good impression on Cinderella."

"I think my words touched a cord with her," Anatole said softly, without giving Lucien any indication of just what a line of nonsense he had served up for the princess' enjoyment.

 _"How did you know that all that rot would please her? Saying it I thought she was going to laugh in my face."_

 _"Cinderella is an idealist," Serena said. "And that means that she enjoys the company of other idealists. And she trusts people, she's proven a dozen times over that she takes whatever people say to her at face value. I suspect her stepfamily is to credit for that, they seem to have been rather blunt and honest in their malice."_

 _"So she thinks that the kindness of strangers must be similarly honest?"_

 _"For the most part, yes," Serena said. "I was wrong to think that weakness was her greatest flaw; Cinderella's willingness to see the world as she'd like it to be, that is her real weakness. It blinds her to the truth."_

"As long as that isn't competition I have to worry about?" Lucien asked with a smile and a hint of a laugh in his voice. A laugh that nevertheless contained within it more than a touch of nervousness. It was somewhere between ridiculous and pathetic, the way he was jealous of Cinderella and her affections even though he possessed neither the girl nor her love. No wonder he couldn't stand to be in the same room as her husband any more.

Princess Cinderella was fortunate, Anatole considered, not only that she was not shackled to Lucien's capricious will but also that the man she had actually chosen did not appear to be of similar temperament. Although Prince Eugene had probably been a little too tolerant to have borne the attentions of Lucien towards his wife for so long.

All of these thoughts and feelings, especially those of the contempt he felt towards Lucien - who had once been an entertaining companion but had been quite hollowed out by lust and jealousy into someone Anatole probably would have avoided where it not for Serena's plans - Anatole concealed behind a ready smile. "Not at all, my dear fellow. I'm many things but a woman-stealing cad I am not."

The inference of that sailed right over Lucien's head like a cannonball as he sighed with relief. "That's very good of you. I mean, not that she'd have you anyway, but-"

"Oho!" Anatole cried with mock indignation. "Oho indeed, O faithless friend! Need I remind you that it is I, not you, who will be living in the palace very soon."

"You can keep the King's stool, Anatole, I have a sign of greater favour from her highness by far," Lucien said. "Why, I am to be no less than Master of the Horse to Cinderella herself. I am promised it."

 _Master of the Horse? Does she even have horses or hounds?_ Serena had told him that Cinderella did not ride, and in fact feared to even try to after an accident when her mount threw her - Serena had entertained vague hopes that she might be encouraged to try again and suffer a second more fatal accident, to no avail - and she had only one hound, too, that she cared for herself. Perhaps that was the idea: to give Lucien a position that would require him to do absolutely no work.

"That will please your mother, no doubt," Anatole replied.

"Probably, but that's not really important compared to what it means," Lucien declared. "It is a secret sign from Cinderella, a sign of encouragement."

Anatole didn't know whether to laugh or roll his eyes; he did neither. It was rather ironic, in his eyes at least, that someone who - according to Serena - would never consider even so much as contemplating an affair should simultaneously be capable of acting like such a shameless flirt. Which was not to say that Lucien wasn't to blame for his interpretation of her behaviour, but when a man was slobbering all over you like a dog you didn't discourage his attention by welcoming his visits, telling him he should come back, giving him presents of money in great sums, or granting him sinecures in your household. He supposed that was what Serena had meant when she said Cinderella saw the world as she wished it was: a world where Lucien Gerard was a dear friend, capable of the most delicate feelings and possessing only the most honourable of intentions.

Instead of being...well, himself.

"Well, since we're both in luck tonight," Anatole said. "Why don't we celebrate with a game? You're still a little flush from your last gift, aren't you? And we both have a stream of income."

Lucien shook his head. "No, I cannot. I have sworn off gambling."

Anatole guffawed with incredulity. "Have you indeed? Since when?"

"Since I promised Cinderella that I would," Lucien replied defensively.

"What? Henpecked already? You've not even enjoyed her favours and yet she nags at you like a sour wife; for God's sake man, live!"

"I will not break my promise to her," Lucien declared piously. "Like an angel, her light guides me out to darkness to become a better man."

"You can't be happy under such pious restraint," Anatole insisted. "You must yearn for a bit of fun; imagine that feeling of fortunes won or lost on the turn of a card, doesn't it thrill you."

Lucien didn't reply. He didn't have to; Anatole could see the gleam of excitement in his eyes.

"Come on," Anatole pressed. "Just one game, low stakes."

"But I promised-"

"What the princess doesn't know won't hurt her," Anatole said.

He would agree, Anatole knew. He would agree because he had no will power, because he was a slave to every base passion that gripped him, because he had no guide to his behaviour other than his impulses...and because all that guff about Cinderella being his guiding angel was - whether or not Lucien believed it himself, and Anatole almost thought he did - a self-serving justification for lust and greed.

"Alright, deal the cards," Lucien said. "Just one game."

"Of course," Anatole said, smiling. "Just one game."

* * *

"Cinderella?"

"Yes?" Cinderella looked to the doorway connecting the bedroom to the dressing room, where Marinette stood awkwardly. "What is it, Marinette?"

"I...I know it isn't really my place, but..."

Cinderella quickly crossed the room, and took Marinette's hand with both of her own. "Marinette. What do I have to do to convince you that you don't need to be afraid of me?" She smiled encouragingly as the other girl glanced at her. "Come on, what's the matter?"

"Nothing," Marinette said. "It's nothing, or at least...I mean...do you like the way that you dress now? You don't seem as happy as you did."

Cinderella's grip on Marinette's hand loosened, but did not cease. Marinette could have pulled away had she wished, but she did not do.

"I..." Cinderella sighed as she looked away, and then half turned away, with one of her hands falling away from Marinette. "I suppose I do."

"You don't seem to," Marinette replied. "You don't...you don't show yourself off the way you used to."

Cinderella snorted. "That's probably a good thing, don't you think? I've always been a vain girl, but...perhaps responsibility is curing me of it."

"But I don't think it was a bad thing at all!" Marinette cried, words falling from her mouth in a great torrent like a waterfall. "And I don't think that it's a good thing that you've stopped, it...seeing you so happy, the way you smiled and twirled, the way you glowed, it...it brightened up the whole room, and now...there is no pleasure in serving you when you're not happy."

Cinderella looked back towards her. "You think that I'm not happy?"

Marinette's look was very knowing. "Are you going to pretend that you are happy?"

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "No," she said. "I won't, but...do you honestly think that I deserve to be happy at a time like this?"

"I think everyone deserves to be happy," Marinette said. "Especially in times like this."

Cinderella chuckled. "You're very kind, Marinette. But I don't have the luxury of pleasing myself now. Augustina says that people will judge me better if I dress this way."

"You shouldn't have to change who you are just to please other people."

Now Cinderella outright laughed, for what had she been doing all this time except changing herself to please other people. Please Eugene, please the court, please the newspapers, please everyone...except herself? No, that was too harsh upon the world, and too self-pitying upon herself; she had dressed as she liked, and by and large she had behaved as she liked...but there had always been a little voice, whispering in her ear, judging her as it thought others might judge her. And from time to time she had heeded that voice. Certainly it was too late to be told that she should be herself and only herself.

"Perhaps," Cinderella said. "But I'm just not sure that's possible."

Marinette's face fell. "I only want to see you happy. I know that His Highness is away, but...as much as you can be in spite of that."

"I know, and it's sweet of you to care," Cinderella replied. "As much as I am not unhappy is down to you, and the other girls. But for now...this is what I must become. And now I'm afraid you must let me get ready. I have an appointment to keep."

"Of course," Marinette said, with a curtsy. "I'm sorry for bothering you."

"You haven't bothered me," Cinderella said. "I don't think you could. Just because I don't always take your advice, doesn't mean for a moment that I don't treasure it."

Marinette took her leave, and Cinderella changed into her drab dress before heading downstairs and to the King's study - Cinderella was starting to get a grip on how to find her way around the palace largely without assistance by now - where Sieur Robert was waiting for her.

"Your Highness, it is good to see you again."

"Likewise, Sieur Robert," Cinderella said, curtsying briefly to him. "Please sit down."

"Thank you, ma'am" Sieur Robert murmured, as he took the seat on the other side of the table.

As Cinderella likewise took her seat, she asked, "So, Sieur, what is it that you wish to discuss with me today?"

"The investigation into the most recent attempt upon your life has born some confusing fruit, I fear," Sieur Robert said. "The man has been questioned, and his lodgings searched, and the only thing that can be said for certain is that the fellow is quite mad."

"Oh dear," Cinderella said softly. "Can he be helped?"

"However obvious his madness seems to me, the question of his condition is still for the jury to decide," Sieur Robert said. "If they find him insane, he will be sent to an asylum; God willing he will recover his senses there, in time." He hesitated for a moment. "Is...is that acceptable to you, ma'am?"

"Of course," Cinderella replied. "From what you say this man sounds very ill; whatever he tried to do I am sorry for him if that is the case."

Sieur Robert cleared his throat. "His Majesty...disapproved of verdicts of not guilty by reason of insanity being handed down in cases like these. He believed that guilty verdicts did more to deter other attempts."

"I mean no disrespect to His Majesty, I love him very much," Cinderella said. "But I have suffered two attempts upon my life and one upon my husband. Deterrence doesn't seem to be working very well."

"Indeed," Sieur Robert said. "This particular fellow now claims that there was no shot in his pistol; that he meant to frighten you, not kill you. Unfortunately we cannot find the bullet to disprove his statement. His second pistol did have shot but he wasn't given the chance to even attempt to fire it."

"A fact of which I'm rather glad, I must say," Cinderella murmured. "Especially since Philippe was also in the carriage with me."

"Philippe? Oh, yes, the Duke of Morlaix, of course," Sieur Robert said. "Personally I don't believe him, but the man is quite capable of deluding himself upon the point. Possibly more interesting is what the police found at his house: rafts of detail about a secret society with the ominous but equally melodramatic name of the Black Hand. He had a manifesto of their aims, the uniform for their secret meetings, passwords...and a picture of your highness cut out of one of the newspapers...and mutilated."

Cinderella shuddered. "Has he said why he wanted to hurt me?"

"Apparently he had recently proposed marriage to a girl and been turned down," Sieur Robert explained. "Neighbours said it put him in a foul mood."

"Enough to drive him mad?"

"It's not unheard of, I'm afraid."

Cinderella looked down at the shiny surface of His Majesty's desk. "Well...as I said, Sieur, if he is mad I hope he gets the help he so clearly requires."

"Hmm," Sieur Robert murmured. "If this Black Hand genuinely exists then it is worrying that is has completely escaped detection until now. It is my sincere hope that it is nothing more than the product of one man's fevered imagination. Ma'am...please, I beg you not to think me dismissive of these matters but...may I broach a subject with you that His Majesty would never hear me upon?"

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "I would prefer, Sieur Robert, that you not treat me as a means to achieve everything that you desired and His Majesty disapproved of; it would be very disrespectful to His Majesty in his illness."

"Believe me, ma'am, when you have heard me you will understand that it is not political advantage that I am seeking," Sieur Robert replied. "As you may recall, His Majesty's preference in these affairs was for strong action: curfews, arrests, setting the proverbial dogs loose upon the people. Yourself and his highness, with compassion and wisdom, spoke against such tactics."

"I remember," Cinderella said softly.

"Hmm," Sieur Robert repeated. "Ma'am...let me be frank and explicit, princess, I believe it is essential that unsuccessful assaults upon your royal personages should cease to be regarded as acts of treason and fall under the umbrella of lesser offences in order to minimise the number of recurrences of these incidents."

Cinderella blinked rapidly. "You..." it took her a moment to comprehend what Sieur Robert was suggesting. "You want to change the law to make it less serious to attack me? To attack my husband or His Majesty or my stepson?"

"If you will please hear me out-"

"A sweet boy could have died!" Cinderella cried. "And an innocent one. Caught up in this through no...through no fault of his own." Her voice quietened as she realised that he wasn't the only one of whom that might be said. "How can you suggest this?"

"I believe that these actions are driven in large part by the craving for fame that a high treason charge and the accompanying trial can provide," Sieur Robert said. "This most recent assailant was not a political radical; he had no republican agenda, the manifesto of his organisation is close to gibberish; this was a man with nothing who saw a chance to become infamous in a single shot."

"He said as much," Cinderella conceded. "He said he would become famous."

"And so he has," Sieur Robert said. "To prevent further incidents of this, I believe it would be best to remove all chance of fame from these offences."

"And what then?" Cinderella asked. "Would they be let go?"

"Of course not, ma'am, they would be tried under lesser charges."

Cinderella hesitated. She light the silence draw out between the two of them.

She didn't like it. In fact it repulsed her. She remembered how terrified she had been at the hall after the meeting, when she recalled how she had trembled on the way home, when she remembered how much she had feared for Philippe...the idea of those who had inspired such terror in her getting away with it...she could see now why His Majesty had been so angry on that night. Perhaps Sieur Robert was right, he was probably clever than she was...but that didn't mean that she wanted to do it. It didn't mean that it was easy for her. Cinderella didn't want to think that she was a vengeful or a spiteful person. She honestly believed that she was not a servant of those vices. But what Sieur Robert was proposing...it felt unjust, to Philippe and also...to herself.

"You must let think about it, Sieur Robert," Cinderella murmured. _You must let me wrestle with my conscience in private, and possibly talk to my friends about it, before I can yea or nay._ "I cannot agree to this right away."

"Very well, your highness, but I must ask that you give the proposal due and sincere consideration," Sieur Robert said. "Now-"

The scarlet curtains obscuring the way into the room were brushed aside as an equerry burst in, his feet thumping upon the floor. "Your highness, Sieur Robert, there is urgent news! Princess Frederica of Normandie has been attacked in her house in the city, and is said to be wounded!"

"My God," Sieur Robert muttered.

Cinderella stood up. "Please prepare my carriage. And find Jean, I mean Ensign Taurillion, and ask him to please join me."

"You mean to go to her?" Sieur Robert asked.

"I do," Cinderella said. _I owe her that much, after having so cruelly misjudged her._

"I will come with you, if I may."

"Of course, Sieur," Cinderella said. "Let us go at once."

Cinderella's carriage was swiftly prepared, and in the company of Sieur Robert, Jean and one of his men Cinderella sped quickly towards Princess Frederica's rented house. The coach clattered along the cobblestones as it rushed through streets crowded by the town houses of the wealthy and genteel, each house tall and wide and with many windows. Frederica's house, at which they soon arrived, was of exactly the same type, but one of the many windows had been shattered, and even as Cinderella's coach came to a rattling halt there were men boarding it up.

 _Could I have been so wrong?_ Cinderella thought, as she dismounted from her carriage. _Could Eugene and Colonel Gerard have been so wrong?_

With Sieur Robert and her guards following, Cinderella walked briskly up the couple of stone steps to the door, and rapped upon the brass knocker, set in the mouth of a wolf that stared back at her as she waited.

The door opened after a few moments, and a retainer, tall and grey and with wrinkles upon his face, stared down at her.

The door opened more widely, and the retainer bowed to her from the waist.

"Princess," he said, speaking in a voice which, in its utter lack of tone and refusal to admit to anything like an opinion, reminded Cinderella very much of Duchamp. "Please come in. Her Highness, Princess Frederica, is expecting you."

"Is…is she alright?" Cinderella asked tremulously.

"Her Highness is remarkably resilient," the old man said, whatever that might or mean or whatever it was supposed to tell Cinderella about Frederica's condition. "If you will kindly follow me."

All four of them of took the invitation inside the house, and once the door was shut behind them – Cinderella noticed that there was another man nearby, younger and stronger looking with a pistol in his belt and a cudgel in his hand; Jean started a little at the sight, but Cinderella wasn't worried. It was only natural that Frederica's people should be worried about her after this – they all four of them followed the old man through the house. It was large by comparison to some of the houses of the poor people who lived in the city, but compared to the palace it was nothing, and even compared to Cinderella's family chateau beyond the city limits it came off a smart second, and so the journey was extremely quick compared to the lengths of journeys to which Cinderella had become accustomed by her royal existence. They were led past the room with the shattered window, where men were working on both sides of the wall to board it up, and Cinderella could see through the open doorway – the door itself appeared to have battered down - that it had been absolutely ransacked, with vases smashed and tables reduced to kindling, chairs ripped apart, feathers everywhere from torn up cushions…it was as though someone had purposefully set out to destroy everything in the room.

"This…is this where it happened?" Cinderella asked.

"Yes," the old man said quietly. "This is where…he blocked the door so that Her Highness could not escape…when the princess' men broke the door down to rescue her he fled out of the window."

"How did he get inside in the first place? Do you know?" Sieur Robert asked.

"A window in the pantry was left ajar, we believe that is how he entered," the old man said.

Shortly thereafter – very shortly – he brought them to an airy sitting room, where Princess Frederica sat upon a green velvet chaise longue, draped in a caramel-coloured gown stained with blood. Her hands and lower arms were covered in bandages.

Despite this, she seemed to be bearing it rather well. Cinderella saw little of the abject panic that had gripped her after her own near brush with death. She envied the other princess her courage.

"Ah, Princess Cinderella, and Sieur Robert too, how good of you to visit me," Princess Frederica's tone, when she saw them, was light and even playful. "You'll forgive me, I hope, if I don't get up."

"Of course," Cinderella said. "I…are you alright?"

"I'm afraid I may have trouble writing letters for a while," Frederica said. "So it's just as well that there is no one I particularly want to write too. I shall probably be wearing gloves for a while to hide my scars but, as you know, a woman's appearance is rarely hurt by the wearing of white gloves."

"Princess, Armorique is most regretful that-"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure it is, Sieur Robert, we may dispense with the boilerplate," Frederica said as she waved him off with one hand. "You may sleep easy knowing that I do not intend to make a diplomatic issue of this."

"That is most kind of you, princess. Do you have any idea who might wish you harm?"

"He babbled while he was…trying to make an end of me," Frederica muttered. "He said something about a black hand."

"The Black Hand?"

"Possibly. The name means nothing to me? Does it mean something to you, sir?"

"The person who tried to shoot me a little while ago," Cinderella said softly. "They appear to have been members of this Black Hand also."

"Ah. It appears we have something in common besides a love of the ballet," Frederica said dryly. "Some cabal of maniacs want us both dead." She frowned for a moment, disfiguring her beautiful face. "Sieur Robert, will you excuse us for a moment? And princess, will you send your guards away so that we may speak alone?"

Sieur Robert bowed his head. "I should be going in any case. Princess Cinderella, Princess Frederica, adieu."

"Thank you, Sieur Robert," Cinderella said. "Jean, will you please wait outside."

"Of course, your highness."

"Clear the room," Frederica instructed her people, who joined Jean and his man in exiting. Soon Cinderella and Frederica were alone, Cinderella standing awkwardly beside the chaise longue looking down on Frederica.

"Feel free to apologise whenever you like," Frederica said politely.

Cinderella sighed. "I'm very sorry, Frederica. I…I've misjudged you completely."

"You and everyone else, it seems," Frederica replied. "Not that it really matters. You can consider yourself forgiven, if you like."

"Thank you," Cinderella said, surprised that it was so easy. "That…that's very kind of you."

Frederica chuckled. "Sit down, Cinderella. I would like us to start again, if we may. With all of this suspicion between us put aside."

Cinderella sat down beside her, and was surprised when Frederica put an arm around her shoulder.

"Now, to ask you again now that you don't think I'm a killer: how are you bearing up under the weight of it all?"

Cinderella's eyebrows rose. "You've just been attacked and you're concerned about how I am?"

"My wounds are bandaged up, my scars will heel," Frederica said. "But you..." she squeezed Cinderella's shoulder. "The weight which lies upon you will break you if you're not careful. I want to help you, if I can."

Cinderella looked down at her hands. "You're very kind. Incredibly kind, considering that I was so rude and cruel to you."

"You trusted your husband, as he trusted his friend," Frederica replied. "Trust...trust is a fine thing; a quality I would never discourage. Nor would I ever suggest that Colonel Gerard betrayed the trust of Prince Eugene, nor that Prince Eugene betrayed your trust...well, not in this anyway. But men can err with the best of intentions. Colonel Gerard made a mistake, and so you who trusted him made a mistake as well. It's of no consequence to me."

"Didn't it hurt you at all? To be accused of something that you didn't do?" Cinderella asked. Of all the insults and spite that had been flung at her by her stepfamily, the harshest stings had always arisen from unjust accusation and slander against her character. Yet Frederica seemed to bear the same without flinching.

"All my life I have been accused of being things that I am not, of doing things that I did not do," Frederica said. "After a while it stopped hurting me." She smiled. "But we were talking about you, and your troubles. Don't change the subject, Cinderella."

"Oh, I wasn't...I mean...I'm fine, really."

Frederica's smile was knowing. "We were introduced at the ballet, but I attended your wedding, and the ball to celebrate your homecoming after your honeymoon was over. Upon your wedding day - marred by those awful events as it was - you looked so gay and bright, you glowed with happiness. And at the ball...roses, diamonds, pearls and you clad all in white...I have rarely seen one more beautiful, but also...more content. You were happy then. But now...the bags beneath your eyes, the pallor of your face, they tell a different story."

"I'm a little tired," Cinderella confessed. "But that...there's nothing anyone can do to help me with that, I just have so much to do now."

"You didn't realise it would be this hard, did you?"

Cinderella snorted. "I suppose you think I'm very foolish. After all, you were born to this, so you must have always known what it would be like."

"Born to this," Frederica repeated. She chuckled dryly. "Yes, I was born to this. I was born to wed, to give my father an alliance and my husband princely heirs to follow in his line. And now..."

"And now?"

Frederica laughed. "Believe me, Cinderella, when I say that I'm not hanging around your city like a bad smell because I'm hoping for you to die so I can try and steal your husband, no. I'm here because I don't want to go home to my ghastly father."

"Oh, Frederica," Cinderella cried. "I'm so sorry, I-"

"And there you've done it again, changing the subject," Frederica declared, with amusement in her voice. "You're either very good at this or it is simply very easy to get me talking about myself. Now where were we? Ah, yes...the weight of it all."

Cinderella looked away from her, out of the window and into the street beyond. "I feel...it feels as though everyone is looking at me, to me. I have to be a daughter for His Majesty, a mother for Philippe, a Queen for the whole country; I have to be strong for everyone...but who is strong for me? It feels like everyone is leaning on me, but who can I lean on with Eugene gone?" Cinderella sniffed. _Please don't start crying. You mustn't cry or she'll think you're weak...as weak as you are._ "Who will hold me and tell me everything's alright."

"I will, until your husband returns," Frederica said, and she embraced Cinderella wholly with both arms, wrapping them about her and pressing her close as she kissed Cinderella upon the temple and the cheek. "Everything will be alright, Cinderella, I guarantee it. You must be a daughter and a mother and a queen, for now. But I will be a sister to you, and help you any way I can, if you'll allow it. If there is ever anything that troubles, something that you dare not say even to your closest confidantes for fear of what they would think of you...then tell me. After all, what's the good of having another princess in your kingdom if she can't give you some useful advice from time to time?"

Cinderella smiled. "Thank you," she whispered.

Frederica released her. "And so, as your sister, I have to ask: why did you start dressing this way?"

Cinderella looked herself up and down. "I know it's a little plain, but-"

"I admit I haven't seen you very often, but you've never seemed particularly fond of plain."

Cinderella shook her head. "You sound a little like Marinette - that's one of my ladies in waiting - she told that I wasn't being myself, dressing this way."

"She might have a point," Frederica said. Her knowing smile returned. "Let me guess: you're trying to dress seriously so that you will be taken seriously?"

"Is that wrong?"

Frederica frowned for a moment. "Let me tell you a secret, Cinderella; something that I've learned through experience: if people want to dismiss you then they will. If people want to make light of you, if they want to think that you are unworthy or beneath their notice then they will, and how you dress isn't going to change their minds. So, since you're never going to please them, you might as well please yourself. You're the Princess Regent, for heaven's sake! If you can't wear what you like then who can?"

"I'd be more interested in learning how to change their minds," Cinderella said. "The people who...you know."

"Only your actions will do that," Frederica said. "Change your clothes, but not your behaviour and you look like you're just playing dress-up. If you want to convince people that you are a good steward of the state you'll only do it by acting like one...and sometimes not even then. That's lesson number two: there's no pleasing some people, so you need to learn early who those people are and stop wasting time on them. Lesson number three, of course, is that you can't please all of the people that you might please, and so you need to pick sides; but I think you knew that already, didn't you?"

"I had some idea," Cinderella murmured. Her lips turned upwards ever so slightly. "So what's lesson number four."

"Lesson number four is put some make up on, dear, you're starting to look like death," Frederica said with a laugh. She stroked Cinderella's cheek with one hand. "Or maybe just a good night's sleep."

Cinderella smiled sheepishly. "I am a little tired."

"Lesson number five: you can't do anything if you've worn yourself out," Frederica said. She stared down at Cinderella for a moment, still stroking her cheek. "He said, 'She has a lovely face, God in his mercy lend her grace.'"

"Frederica?"

"Poetry," Frederica explained. "One I'm rather fond of."

A silence settled between them for a moment.

"I should go," Cinderella said, as she rose off the chaise longue. "If...if you need protection, then I will have some guards-"

"I trust my people," Frederica said. "An error was made, but it will not be repeated. They would defend me with their lives; I have no doubt of that."

"Alright," Cinderella said. "Until next time then, Frederica."

"Until next time, when I expect to see you attired more prettily."

"I'm not sure-"

"Remember what I said," Frederica said. "You won't please anyone that way, so please yourself and hang what they think of you."

"I...I'll think about it, I promise," Cinderella said. "Goodbye."

* * *

Frederica lay on the chaise longue as the door closed behind Cinderella. She lay there for a while, or for a little time at least, until the door opened again and Anton walked in.

"The princess has departed," he said.

"One of them, anyway," Frederica murmured. She felt...guilty. Not too much, perhaps, because this would help the girl in the long run, but nevertheless...she felt guilty. She had deceived a guileless, gentle girl, and whatever her motives and intentions - and Frederica considered that she had the best of both - that was cause for feeling guilt, if anything was.

It set her stomach to rolling like the ocean that she was forced into such manoeuvres to gain the trust and friendship of one whom she would rather have approached in a more honest vein. Could honest friendship arise out of deceit? She supposed that she would soon find out.

 _She needs me, and my help. One look at her was enough to tell me that she's foundering in all this._ But still...that did not make it right to deceive her.

"How are you hands, ma'am?" Anton asked.

"Oh, a little stiff but I shall be fine, Anton," Frederica declared. "I have seen drunkards do more than this in sport."

"Princess?"

"Shakespeare, Anton, Shakespeare," Frederica said. She clasped her hands together and laid them on her stomach. She should probably change out of this bloody gown - and get rid of it, it was ruined by the deception - but she didn't quite have the energy to actually get up and change at the moment. Her thoughts were all a whirl, and whirling around Cinderella. "He said, 'She has a lovely face, God in his mercy lend her grace.' The lady of Shallott. You know I'm really starting to root for her, Anton. Does that surprise you?"

"A little, ma'am."

"Think about it," Frederica instructed him. "Think of it, Anton: wouldn't it be grand if just this once the underdog wasn't broken on the wheel of this world, wasn't corrupted by it, wasn't...robbed of all her hopes and dreams. Imagine if she could really do it, navigate a way through all these trials, make a success of all these burdens; imagine if she showed them all. Imagine if love and courage and a pinch of determination really could triumph over all of it. Picture it, Anton! Wouldn't that be something? Something special, something spectacular...something worth helping along?"

* * *

Cinderella stood in front of the full-length mirror in her room, staring at her own reflection.

She only half saw it. The other half was lost in thoughtful remembrances.

 _The bags beneath your eyes, the pallor of your face, they tell a different story._

 _I am not that pale,_ Cinderella thought defensively. Or, at least, she was not that much paler than normal. She had always been fair; it was part of what made her so beautiful. Had she now grown too pale from exhaustion so that one of her charms had become a defect? She could scrutinise herself all she liked, but she could not find the answer, although...although she hoped not. It shouldn't have mattered to her, not with Eugene gone and everything else happening, but...but it did. She hoped that her beauty had not deserted her. Not least because she could not get it back without slowing the frenetic pace of her activities, and that she could not do. Would not do.

 _Lesson number four is put on some make-up, dear, you're starting to look like death._

That was a little harsh. It was true that she hard dark bags beneath her blue eyes, that her eyes themselves were a little less bright than Cinderella was used to seeing stare back at her, that there was a look of weariness upon her features that no smile could dislodge or brighten, but that was not death. It was an exaggeration she looked like death.

Cinderella yawned, unprompted. As she raised one hand to cover her mouth, Cinderella noticed that that hand was shaking. She felt very hungry, with a gnawing feeling in her stomach and a throat turning harsh with dust. She yawned again, no demure or ladylike thing but a great, gaping leonine yawn that she was glad no one was around to see.

 _I should be ashamed of myself, why I used to be able to rise with the lark with a song in my heart and on my lips, and work till after dark and never so much as feel tired. I have grown inexcusably lazy here._

Cinderella continued to examine herself, moving from her somewhat pallid face and the dark lines under her eyes, to the severe bun in which she had bound her hair. Had she been older, she would have looked like a stereotypical librarian, but being young she looked...like a younger-than-stereotypical librarian?

 _I wore my hair like this at my wedding._

 _True, but nobody could see it behind the veil then._

 _What does it matter if it looks severe? Should I look girlish and immature instead, wearing a bow hairband?_

 _So, since you're never going to please them, you might as well please yourself._

 _That...even if that were true...is that true? Is it true, what Frederica said?_

 _You shouldn't have to change who you are to please people._

 _Maybe not, but I've done it now, or tried to._

 _Do you really think that it's worked? Can you honestly say that?_

 _I...perhaps, or perhaps not. I don't know. But Eugene isn't here, so who on earth would I be dressing up for?_

 _What's wrong with dressing up for myself if I enjoy it?_

What was it Lucrecia said...from a book she liked...Ah, yes, Cinderella had it now: 'I am only resolved to act in that manner which will, in my opinion, constitute my own happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.'

Cinderella turned away from the mirror, and walked across the wooden floor where the bell pull hung down beside the bed.

She rang, and shortly after Duchamp appeared, summoned as surely as any genie summoned by a rub upon a magic lamp.

"You rang, ma'am?"

"Good evening, Duchamp," Cinderella said. "Will you please help me to get changed and made up ready for dinner?"

Duchamp's eyebrows rose, and she stared at Cinderella for a moment.

"Is something wrong, Duchamp?"

"No, ma'am, forgive me," Duchamp said immediately. "But since Prince Eugene's going away to America you have changed for dinner but rarely, and never since His Majesty's illness."

"I know," Cinderella said softly. "But I should like to start again, if..." she almost said 'if you think that's appropriate' before remembering that it was for her to decide what was appropriate or not. "If you'll help me." That phrasing involved almost as much of asking Duchamp to make Cinderella's decisions for her as the other...but not quite.

 _Please myself. Please myself._

It was difficult to tell, but Cinderella thought Duchamp was smiling. "Of course, ma'am. I am at your service. Do you have anything in mind that you would like to wear?"

"Something...with at least one bow on it," Cinderella said. "Either blue or pink, I don't mind the colour."

Duchamp was definitely smiling now. "Very good, ma'am."

Duchamp helped Cinderella out of her drab and sombre dress and into a gown that more than fulfilled Cinderella's demand for at least one bow. The gown was pink, in various shades of that delightful colour; the bodice that clung to her so tightly and revealed so much of her waist and chest was a darker shade, although a lighter triangle rose from a point at the waistline to take up most of the front of the gown by the time it reached the collar of white lace that clung to Cinderella's arms just beneath the shoulders, even as beneath that collar two small, puffed sleeves of lighter pink concealed a couple of inches of her arm from view, bordered at the bottom by more white lace; a pretty bow of very dark pink sat in the very centre of the collar, complemented by a sash of that same colour wrapped around her waist and tied into another bow at the back just above the bustle; the skirt was of a decidedly lighter shade than the bodice, but the peplum descending like a waterfall down the front and the bustle at the back combined to conceal the greater part of it from view, and both were of the bodice's more rouge-like colour; a bow upon each side of the dress marked the corners of the peplum, where it rose up at the side before descending against to meet the bustle at the back; more white lack marked the edge of peplum and bustle both; a line of lavender fabric, liberally bestrewn with miniature bows less than half the size of their larger cousins up above, marked the end of the skirt, beneath which six inches of the white over which all else was set above could be seen descending to the floor. Cinderella could feel the petticoat beneath touching her leg, and she could feel it moving when she twirled.

And twirl she did, before the mirror, whirling upon the tips of her slipper-clad toes, feeling skirt and petticoats turn around her.

 _I feel...I feel myself again._ She would be the Princess Regent, the woman who signed bills into law and chaired Privy Council meetings...but that was no reason she had to stop being the girl who loved pretty flowers and sparkling jewellery and lovely dresses with an abundance of bows on them.

"Welcome back, ma'am," Duchamp said, so softly that Cinderella barely heard her speak. Barely...but hear it she did, and it made her smile.

Duchamp didn't complain when Cinderella requested the white bow hairband for her hair, and then she combated Cinderella's weary pallor with a blush of luminous pink, and battled the darkness beneath her eyes with a bright blue above them, and employed all the artifice that royal wealth could buy to counter the signs of that tiredness that royal life had wrought on Cinderella's face. It had become Cinderella's habit to wear only her wedding ring, but now she set her engagement ring proudly upon her white-gloved finger, and fastened her wedding necklace around her neck, and adorned her wrists and lower arms with bracelets of pearl and sapphire. Teardrop-shaped pearl earrings hanging from sapphire studs provided the finishing touch.

"Thank you so much, Duchamp," Cinderella said, turning her head this way and that in front of the vanity mirror. "That looks-"

"Beautiful," came the voice from the doorway. "You look absolutely beautiful."

Cinderella's first, absurd, utterly ridiculous thought that was that it was Eugene who had spoken; Eugene returned in secret, Eugene stolen away across the sea to be with her, and in the grip of such lunacy she turned, a smile of sheer joy illuminating her face, her beloved's name upon her lips...but of course it was not Eugene. Eugene wasn't here, Eugene was in Louisiana, Eugene was far away and Cinderella had no news of him. Instead it was Lucien who stood in the doorway, leaning upon it, smiling at her.

It would have been cruel, so very cruel of Cinderella to have let Lucien see how disappointed she was to see him there, instead of her idiotic fantasy of Eugene, and so she did not allow the joyous smile upon her face to waver for a moment, and hoped that he couldn't see any disappointment in her eyes nor hear it in her voice. "Lucien!" Cinderella cried, as she rose from the dressing table stool and took a couple of steps towards him. "What brings you here so late? Not that I'm not happy to see you, but I'm afraid I can't stay long; I was just about to go to dinner, you see."

Lucien nodded. His smile faded a little, he looked...worried, about something.

"But I don't have to go right away," Cinderella said. "If you're troubled...please don't think...please, I'll help in any way I can."

Lucien looked at her. "You look lovely tonight. You haven't looked so lovely for a while."

"Thank you," Cinderella murmured. "I...I decided...I was helped to see, by Marinette among others, that I wasn't going to impress anyone by pretending to be other than what I am."

Lucien nodded absently. He seemed unwilling to meet her eyes, his gaze darted anywhere else, moving quickly.

Cinderella closed the distance between the two of them. She reached out to him with both of her gloved hands. "Lucien. What's wrong?"

"I...I've lost all of the money you gave me."

Cinderella gasped. "Lost? How?"

"Play...playing cards, with Anatole de Montcalm."

Cinderella's hands fell down to her sides. "You gambled. After you promised me that you'd stop."

"It's not my fault," Lucien insisted. "Anatole encouraged me, even after I told him that I shouldn't. I told him that I'd promised you I wouldn't, but he kept on pushing me; this is all his fault, not mine."

"I shall certainly have a stern word with Anatole when I see him again," Cinderella said frostily. "But he isn't the one who made me a promise."

"I won the first few games," Lucien protested.

"And then you lost," Cinderella replied. "Quite badly, by the sound of it."

Lucien ran one hand through his hair. "I thought...I thought my luck would have to change again eventually, so I kept on putting more money down...but he just kept winning until...until I had nothing left." He was silent for a moment. "You'll help me, won't you Cinderella? I don't need very much, just a couple of hundred-"

 _A friendship can withstand the word no uttered once in a while._ "I'm sorry, Lucien," Cinderella said, with quiet firmness. "I can't help you this time."

Lucien blinked furiously. His eyes bulged. "You...you can't help me? You mean...you can't mean that. Cinderella...sweet Cinderella, kind Cinderella, my dear friend Cinderella, you...you can't mean to leave me destitute. Would you throw me penniless upon the vagaries of the world? Would you leave me at the mercy of wind and rain and creditors? Would you turn me away, when I am at your mercy and wholly dependent upon the kindness of strangers? You wouldn't be so cruel, so heartless. Not the Cinderella that I know and...not you; not gentle Cinderella, not lovely Cinderella and all the more lovely for being, as you are, generous Cinderella; you would not use me with such merciless barbarism."

His words pricked at her heart and at her conscience too...but Cinderella felt other things now, besides pity. Her crossness - she was loathe to call it anger, although some might have given it such an appellation - and her disappointment warred against her pity and her sympathy within her soul. "I...I asked you to make me a promise, and you did," Cinderella said. "I asked you to promise me because I was worried about you, because I care about you and I want you to be safe and happy and I could see that gambling wasn't making you either of those things. But you broke your promise, and so quickly too. Why didn't you just tell me that you couldn't promise me that, that it was impossible for you?"

"Anatole-"

"You could have said no to Anatole," Cinderella said firmly. "Did...did you make me that promise simply so that I would give you money?"

"No!" Lucien cried. "No, Cinderella, of course not, I would never treat you that way. That day, in that moment, I really intended to stop. I really intended to change, to become a better man through your guiding light; but you were far away and I was weak and I am so sorry. With a couple of hundred pounds-"

"I'm not going to reward you for breaking your promise to me," Cinderella declared. "I'm sorry, Lucien, I can't help you this time."

"You can't?" Lucien demanded. "You mean you won't?"

"Very well," Cinderella said softly. "I won't help you this time."

Lucien stared at her aghast for a moment, before he shook his head in disgusted despair. "When did the sweet girl I first met become so greedy and selfish?"

"Selfish?" Cinderella exclaimed. "I'm not-"

"Of course you are, look at you, all dolled up and wearing a fortune on your arms and legs!" Lucien said. "You're just like all the rest of them now: sitting on top of the world and turning down a friend in need-"

"A friend asks for help, they don't take it for granted," Cinderella snapped quietly, but that didn't mean that it was not a snap. Lucien was angry at her? He was angry, at her? When he had...she had never seen him angry before, and she didn't like it. If she had done something wrong then she might have tolerated it, for all that she disliked it, but she had not done anything wrong. He had, and it wasn't fair of him to ignore that and she wasn't going to stand for it. "And please don't shout at me."

Lucien cringed before her anger. "Cinderella, I-"

"I think you should go," Cinderella said.

"Please, you can't-"

"Please, Lucien," Cinderella insisted. "Please go." She...she didn't want to speak any more with him at the moment. Perhaps later, when she had calmed down, she would allow him to apologise if he wanted to, but now...now she just wanted him to go.

Lucien looked torn between fear and anger, he looked as though he were about to start pleading with her or berate her for her coldness...but he did neither of those things. Instead he bowed his head, turned his back on her, and began to walk away forlorn.

Cinderella listened to his footsteps echoing on the staircase as she sat down upon her bed, with her elbows resting on her knees.

A sigh escaped her lips. "Maybe I was too hard on him."

She hadn't actually intended for Duchamp to respond, but the lady's maid replied anyway. "If I may say, ma'am, that was a long time in coming. You've let that young man take far too many liberties for far too long."

Cinderella frowned. "Really?"

"He intrudes upon you at all hours, shows no concern for your position or the proprieties that should accompany it, and treats you like his personal bank, ma'am."

"You sound like Angelique," Cinderella murmured.

"Mademoiselle Bonnet strikes me as having a very good head on her shoulders, if you don't mind me saying, ma'am," Duchamp replied dryly.

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "If you thought so…why didn't you say anything to me before now?"

"If you'll recall ma'am I did say something when he intruded upon you in your nightgown," Duchamp replied. "You defended Monsieur Gerard's character."

"Yes, I did," Cinderella replied. "And…I do. I…I'm sure he didn't mean to shout at me. He made a mistake, but I'm sure he's not as bad as you're making him sound. I know what you must think, but I know that it isn't true. I know that he isn't just using me for money…I want to believe that he isn't…I do believe that he isn't. He just…I have money, so why shouldn't he come to me?"

"And if he apologises, will you give him more, ma'am?" Duchamp asked.

Cinderella considered that for a moment. "No," she said. "Not…not unless he shows that he really can stop, like I asked him too. If he can't…if he doesn't care…no."

"As you wish, ma'am," Duchamp said. "You know your own mind best, I'm sure."

"I wish I was so certain of that," Cinderella said lightly, before she got up and began to make her way downstairs for dinner.

* * *

The maid tarried in Cinderella's room for a while after she had gone, meaning that Lucien had to wait in hiding for a little bit waiting for her chambers to clear.

He had doubled back after being dismissed; using the tunnels and passages that only he knew to arrive back in Cinderella's bedroom. Or outside it, in a manner of speaking, looking in through a peephole from the cavity running along the wall.

He needed to get Cinderella away from this place. She was being corrupted by the wicked influences of the court. That street rat Angelique was poisoning his angel's ears against him, and the maid was little better. What right did people like that have to judge him? Hypocrites, the pair of them. He was a gentleman, and they were little better than riff-raff, yet they presumed to look down upon him for his faults. Without their malign influence, Cinderella would have helped him for certain. If it weren't for them, and for others like them so quick to slander his good name, his sweet Cinderella would have given him the money he needed and smiled so prettily at him while she did so.

He had to rescue her, before it was too late, for her sake as much as for his own.

But he also needed money right now, which was why he was here.

Once Lucien was certain that maid was gone, and wasn't coming back for a while, Lucien slid open the wall panel that led from the secret passage into the bedroom proper. It was one of many ways from the passages into Cinderella's chambers: they dated back to an old king of Armorique, Henri V, who had married a very beautiful queen far younger than himself. Consumed by jealousy, and paranoid of his beautiful wife having affairs with the young gallants of the court, he had had the passages in the Queen's Tower extended so that, wherever in the tower his queen went, she could never escape his sight.

Lucien climbed out of the tunnel, and wandered over to Cinderella's jewellery box. It wasn't locked.

Lucien reached out, as he tried to decide which pieces he would take.

Most of them he would return, of course. When he and Cinderella were together, she would have diamonds and pearls to dazzle in. If she wasn't wearing it he would have taken that necklace, of which he knew she was fond. She would thank him for such thoughtfulness later when their new lives had begun.

And as for the rest…in her right mind she would not begrudge him. He knew she wouldn't.

After all, they were in love.

* * *

 _Author's Note: The poem that Frederica quotes from is Tennyson's The Lady of Shallot, while the Shakespeare is King Lear.  
_


	32. Lucien's Love

Lucien's Love

Cinderella's delicate fingers sifted through her jewellery box. "Duchamp, have you seen my diamond earrings?"

"Which ones, ma'am, you have several?"

Cinderella chuckled. "The very large ones, the ones that cover up half my ears when I wear them? I can't seem to find them."

Duchamp peered over Cinderella's shoulder. "Did you want them, ma'am?"

"No," Cinderella replied. "But it surprised me, because they're usually in a certain place and I don't remember moving them. So I looked and...I can't find them."

"If you like, ma'am, I can empty out your jewellery box and conduct a thorough search," Duchamp said.

"Would you, Duchamp, that would be very kind of you," Cinderella replied. "I'd help you, but I'm afraid I can't stay. Sieur Robert is coming again with a bill that he needs me to assent to."

"I understand completely, ma'am."

"I'm probably making a fuss out of nothing," Cinderella said. "Probably Serena or Grace borrowed them and forgot to tell me about it. Or I've forgotten them telling me about it."

"One can only hope, ma'am," Duchamp declared, with a faint note of disapproval in her voice that Cinderella noted but decided not to respond to.

"I'll leave you to it then," Cinderella said. "If you don't find them, then...well, I'm sure that you'll find them somewhere. Thank you."

"Ma'am."

Cinderella turned away, and picked up the skirt of her poufy white dress as she made her way for another meeting with Sieur Robert.

* * *

"Publius Aebutius, whose father had performed his military service with a horse supplied by the state, was left a ward," Cinderella read from the book on her lap, occasionally glancing upwards from the leather-bound tome to the King who lay, looking half-asleep, all wrapped up in his bed. He did not react, but he looked peaceful, and Cinderella was sure that the words were reaching him somehow. She only hoped she wasn't mangling the classical names too badly.

"And later," she continued. "On the death of his guardians, was brought under the tutelage of his mother Duronia and his stepfather Titus Sempronius Rutilus. His mother was so devoted to her husband, and his stepfather, who had so administered his guardianship that he could not render an accounting, desired that the ward should either be done away with or be made dependent upon them by some tie." Cinderella paused for a moment, reflecting with sympathy upon Aebutius' situation. _At least my father would never have permitted any of the things that befell me, while he lived._

"The one method of corrupting him was through the Bacchanalia. The mother addressed the young man: while he was sick, she said, she had vowed for him that as soon as he had recovered she would initiate him into the Bacchic rites; being compelled, by the kindness of the gods, to pay her vow, she wished to fulfil it. For ten days, she continued, he must practise continence: on the tenth day she would conduct him to the banquet and then, after the ritual purification, to the shrine. There was a well known courtesan, a freedwoman named Hispala Faecenia, not worthy of the occupation to which, while still a mere slave, she had accustomed herself, and even after she had been manumitted she maintained herself in the same way. Between her and Aebutius, since they were neighbours, an intimacy developed, not at all damaging either to the young man's fortune or his reputation; for he had been loved and sought out without any effort on his part, and, since his own relatives made provision for all his needs on a very small scale, he was maintained by the generosity of the courtesan." Cinderella smiled, she thought that she was going to enjoy this part of the history a lot more than most of the battles that had come before it.

Before she could read on, however, there was a knock upon the door to the King's bedroom that was followed, before Cinderella could answer, by the door opening to admit His Grace.

"Forgive me for the interruption, your highness," he said. "But this letter arrived with the packet from New Orleans and I thought you would want to see it as soon as possible."

Cinderella gasped. "A letter from Eugene?"

"It may be so, your highness."

Cinderella closed the book, and set it aside on the King's bedside table, before she reached out for the letter with one trembling hand. Trembling with excited apprehension, she was sure, although there had been times lately when she had caught her hand shaking for no discernible reason unless it was the empty feeling in her stomach. She had thought about seeing a doctor, but did not because...well, because she had so much going on. She didn't have time to be ill at the moment. And anyway, it was excitement in this case, she was sure.

Cinderella took the letter from His Grace's unresisting hand, but did not open it. She wished to know, she wished to see...but she also feared to know. This could be, might very well be from Eugene...but what if it wasn't? What if it was a letter to tell her that her gallant prince had died in battle, and that he would never return from America to hold her or kiss her again? What if she had to tell Philippe that the father he had known for so brief a season was no more? What if the King woke to the news that his only son was dead?

Cinderella didn't want to know that. If that was the message that she did not want to open the letter. She would rather dwell in blissful ignorance, believing her husband alive...but that was childish thinking, and unworthy of her position. It was her duty, as wife and princess both, to open this letter and to read the news within it, good or bad.

With two fingers she broke the wax seal upon the letter, and pulled the massage out of his envelope.

 _Dearest Cinderella,_

Cinderella let out a ragged gasping sigh of relief. "It is! It's from him!" A smile like sunlight parting clouds broke across her face as she reached out and laid her had upon that of His Majesty. "Your Majesty, Eugene has written! Can you hear me? There is a letter from your son!"

At Eugene's name, and at the word of son, His Majesty seemed almost to stir. His drooping eye flickered for a moment, a sound deeper than his heavy breathing escaped his mouth, and Cinderella almost thought, almost hoped, that he might speak...but he did not. That the words had reached him, that he had understood them, Cinderella had no doubt. But to react to them...that was still beyond him. The doctor said that, after so long, it was now unlikely that His Majesty would die, but they could not say with any certainty that he would recover at all.

Cinderella squeezed his hand gently. "Don't worry, your majesty, I will read it to you."

His Grace bowed his head. "I will leave your highness in peace-"

"No, your grace, please stay," Cinderella said. "I...there may be important news here that should be shared." She wasn't sure if this was an intimate letter or a public one, or both. Eugene might not have had time to write more than a single missive.

She began to read.

"Dearest Cinderella,

"I would like to thank you, truly and deeply, for writing to me so often. There is not a soldier in the army who does not delight in a letter from home, and I am the envy of the senior officers for the many letters that I receive from you at once. But it is not only for that, or even mostly for that reason, that I thank you. The nights can grow cold here, and the land can be desolate, and I confess that it is sometimes difficult to remember why we are all here and what we are fighting for. But whenever your lines fall under my eye, and I think of you and everyone at home, then I am given the strength to carry on and see this thing through to the end.

"I would also like to thank you for being honest with me about my father. When I heard that he had been taken gravely sick it took all my will not to take a ship and sail home immediately. I am aware that, by the time this letter reaches you, so much back home will have changed. I am aware that my father may be completely recovered...or he may have passed on, and rejoined my mother in the heavens above us. I am sorry, more sorry than I can express, that I cannot be by his side in this time; but I am glad, so very glad, that you are with him.

"Thank you, again, for being honest with me. I don't know if you were ever tempted to keep this from me; actually, I doubt that you were ever so tempted. You are so full of grace and kindness; you would never treat me in the way that I, to my lasting shame, have treated you. It is strange, to me at least, that while you were by my side I should so often have fallen short of your most virtuous standards of behaviour, but now that there is a great wide rolling ocean keeping us apart I feel your example always with me. Every night I look at the locket bearing your picture in it, and I strive to behave with a generosity, and a nobility of spirit, that you would approve of.

"As I write to you, we have secured New Orleans and broken the attempts of the enemy to lay siege to it. Lafayette and his forces are fled upriver. We will pursue them soon, but first I am resting my forces for a short while. Most of them have endured an arduous sea voyage with a hard battle at the end of it, and it would be unfair to push them too hard, too swiftly. Cinderella, there is nothing that I desire more than to proclaim this campaign over and our war won and fly with winged speed back to your side; but the war is neither over or worn, and I fear many battles and much marching lies before us.

"Please tell Etienne's family that he is well. I told him he should write to his mother and sister himself, but he tells me that he has not yet accomplished anything worth writing about, for the cavalry found little employment in the recent engagement. I think you'll agree with me that he is being very stupid."

Cinderella giggled. "Yes," she said, as though her words would someone cross the vast expanse of the Atlantic to Eugene's words. "Yes, and I will tell them, and Lucrecia too."

She continued reading. "Oh, my Cinderella, there is nothing that I long for more than to feel your lips pressed against mine, and to feel your skin under my hands." Cinderella felt a blush rise into her cheeks as she wondered if she might have to ask His Grace to leave the room and skip over some of the letter for His Majesty's sake. Thankfully Eugene did not venture any further into such territory, but turned away. "But until that happy day should come, I beg of you: do not forget me.

"I am sorry that my being here has placed so many burdens on you back home, but I have no doubt that you will do - that you are doing - a splendid job. You are brave, wise and kind; and I believe in you with all my heart."

Cinderella closed her eyes. _I believe in you with all my heart._ It seemed that he had more faith in her than she had in herself, but...but how could she disappoint him, in the face of such confidence?

Only a little more remained. "Please give Philippe a kiss from me, and tell him and my father both that they are in my thoughts, and in my prayers.

"I love you. Warmly, Eugene."

Cinderella felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her. Her whole body sagged forwards. "He's alive. He's safe. Thank God."

She glanced at His Grace. "Your Grace, will you please convey the military news to Sieur Robert? He can inform the Assembly as he thinks best."

His Grace bowed. "Of course, your highness."

Cinderella squeezed the King's hand again. "Your son is safe and sound and victorious, your majesty, and he sends you his love."

The King did not respond, and Cinderella could only pray that he had heard and understood her.

Although she wanted at once to leap up, to find Philippe, to spread the joyous news throughout the palace - assuming that His Grace had not done so already - Cinderella decided that it would be a poor way to repay Eugene's faith in her, after he had commended his father into her care, by using the excuse of news from Eugene to abandon the King. So she stayed by his side, and read to him and talked to him about what Eugene might do next (not that Cinderella would ever pretend to any grasp of military theory) for the whole two hours, and only then did she leave him to the care of Anatole de Montcalm and the other gentlemen of the Privy Chamber as she went to find Philippe. She found him in the garden, playing with his grandmother. Or rather, she found his grandmother in the garden, with Philippe nowhere to be found.

"We're playing hide and seek," Esme explained as Cinderella approached.

"Ah," Cinderella said, with a smile playing across her features. "Philippe! Please come out, I need to speak to you."

"You have to find me, Stepmother," Philippe cried, which at least confirmed that he was somewhere near by.

Cinderella giggled. "But how will I ever do that, when you've hidden so well?"

From behind a nearby cherry tree came the unmistakable sound of a small boy laughing.

Cinderella sighed wistfully. _I wish I'd been able to play hide and seek with my Stepmother._ Sadly, the mere suggestion would probably have gotten her a spanking. _May you have all the joy that I was denied, Philippe, and more._

Cinderella's skirt whirled around her as she looked around theatrically, her ponytail swung across her shoulder as Cinderella turned her head to affect searching in all directions, as she covered her eyes with one hand. "Where, oh where could he be?" She took a step towards the cherry tree. "Not here." Then another. "Not here." Another step. "Nor here."

Cinderella dashed around the cherry tree to find Philippe hiding there. "There you are!" she cried, as she picked him up - either he was getting heavier or her arms were growing weaker, for it was almost a strain to lift him - and whirled him around in the air (she stepped away from the tree for safety, of course) as they both laughed for joy. Cinderella knelt down, putting Philippe back down on the ground as she did so, and kissed him on both cheeks. "One of those was from your father," she said. "He wrote to me, and asked me to kiss you for him."

"Is Papa coming back?" Philippe asked.

"No, I'm afraid not," Cinderella said softly. "His important work is not yet done. But he misses you, and thinks of you every day."

"I miss him too," Philippe said.

"I know," Cinderella murmured. "We all do. But we must all be brave and strong until he returns, for your father and your grandfather."

"Is grandfather going to get better?"

"I hope so," Cinderella replied. "We must all pray for him, and be strong."

"Philippe," Esme said. "Play by yourself for a moment, dear; Cinderella and I need to talk."

"Yes, Grandma," Philippe said, and he ran off a little way as Esme loomed over Cinderella.

"Was the news really as good as that?" Esme asked.

Cinderella rose to her feet, a little less smoothly than she should have done. "Eugene has won a battle; he isn't hurt, or he didn't say he was. He really does send his love to Philippe."

Esme folded her arms. "There was a time when I would have wished him dead in such a war as this."

"And now?"

"Now Philippe knows his father," Esme said. "I love that boy too much to wish any hurt to him."

Cinderella smiled at her, as she looked at Philippe. "He's a wonderful boy."

Esme nodded. "If I may...I'd like to say sorry, for how rude I was to you at first."

"It's alright," Cinderella said. "I understand."

"All the same," Esme muttered. "I think...I think my Katherine would have liked you."

Cinderella's smile widened just a little. "That's very kind of you to say...but as long as she approves of how I've treated her son...that's all that matters."

"If she doesn't," Esme said. "I'd be very surprised."

* * *

Eugene's letter carried Cinderella though her day like a river carries a stick along in its current. No matter what happened, no matter how many bills she had to assent to, no matter how many papers she had to read, no matter how much of a trial she found her lessons none of it could trouble Cinderella because Eugene had written to her and he was well. That news, that truth, suffused her heart and set it to swelling, and with that comfort she could bound through her day and things that would otherwise have made her want to scream instead left her wanting to break into song because Eugene was well! Eugene was well, and that meant that all was well with the world.

After leaving Philippe and his grandmother behind, Cinderella made her way to the nearest sitting room and summoned Marinette to give her the news.

When she heard that her brother was safe and sound and hearty, Marinette seemed to sag with relief even as Cinderella had done at receipt of Eugene's letter and the confirmation it provided of his continued good health.

Tears glistened in her hazel eyes as she said, "Thank God. I'm so glad, although...although I do wish that he had written himself."

"Indeed," Cinderella said softly.

"But I suppose he has his reasons for silence."

"Perhaps," Cinderella murmured, not mentioning that she didn't think his reasons were particularly good ones.

Marinette sighed with relief. "Thank you so much for telling me. May I please go and tell Mother the good news?"

"Of course you may," Cinderella replied. "I wouldn't dream of keeping you a moment longer."

As Marinette took her leave for now, Cinderella summoned a servant and asked that Lucrecia should be invited to come to the palace at her earliest possible convenience. That request made, and with the servant having assured her that it would be done, Cinderella gathered together her other ladies-in-waiting to break the news to them.

If they had heard it all beforehand, they did a very good job of pretending otherwise for Cinderella's sake; they all looked as though it was news to them.

Augustina was the first to speak out. "Didn't I say so?" she said. "Did I not say that everything would depend on whether or not Prince Eugene could succour New Orleans?"

"Yes, yes, you're a military genius Augustina, now give it a rest for heaven's sake," Serena muttered.

"Is that a touch of sourness I detect in your voice, Serena?"

Serena snorted. "You think I am sour with jealousy of you, Augustina? Pah. I say again, Pah."

"Oh, please, both of you," Cinderella pleaded. "Let's not fight, on a day with such good news. Isn't this a time for celebration?"

"You chide us well, Cinderella, once again," Serena said. She crossed the floor to stand by Cinderella's side, taking her hand and the crook of her arm. "We are all united in your joy at this glad news."

Augustina folded her arms. "This strikes me as the moment for a celebration."

"Ooh, yes, a party!" Grace cried. "That sounds like a splendid idea."

"Hmm," Cinderella murmured. Augustina had raised this point before, that when news of one of Eugene's victories arrived it would be a good moment to host a celebration. Cinderella had been opposed to the idea at the time; it had seemed too frivolous even if it was in celebration of Eugene's triumph. But now...now a little frivolity didn't seem like such a bad thing. "Yes, that will be wonderful; I'll speak to His Grace about arranging it."

Marinette returned shortly after, with a slightly downcast expression on her face.

"Marinette, is something the matter?" Cinderella asked.

Marinette did not meet Cinderella's eyes.

Cinderella placed herself foursquare in front of her companion, stopping her progress down the corridor. "Marinette? Did something happen at home? Did you give your mother the news?"

Marinette nodded. "They...weren't particularly interested."

"Not interested?" Cinderella repeated. She thought back to the way she had felt when His Grace had brought the news to her, the mingling of excitement and apprehension that she had felt. The idea that Colonel Gerard's relatives could endure the same news with _distinterest_ it...it was anathema to her. She could not fathom it.

 _The poor dear,_ she thought, as sympathy for the colonel replaced some of her earlier bemusement at his conduct.

Marinette shook her head a little. She still would not meet Cinderella's eyes.

"Marinette, will you please look at me?" Cinderella asked. "You're acting as though I should be upset with you."

Marinette tentatively glanced in her direction. "Lucien...Lucien was more interested in asking me about you."

Cinderella clasped her hands together. "I see."

"He said you were angry with him."

"I am upset," Cinderella admitted. "Did he tell you why?"

Marinette nodded. "If you want me to go-"

"Marinette!" Cinderella cried. "What would make you say such a thing?"

"My family has offended you," Marinette said. "First Etienne, now Lucien-"

"And you are neither of your brothers," Cinderella said. "You are my friend, and there will be a place for you by my side for however long you want it."

Marinette screwed her eyes tight shut. "Cinderella...princess...there's something you should know...when my mother sent Lucien and Etienne to get me this position with you...it was so that I could become your friend and use our friendship to get money and favours out of you, and restore the fortunes of the Gerard family."

Cinderella took half a step backwards. "But you've never asked me for anything."

"I know," Marinette said, and her voice trembled. "And perhaps that makes me a bad daughter, but...but you've been so kind, and you and Angelique are the best friends I've had since my father died...and that's why I couldn't...that's why I can't keep the truth from you any more. I understand if you-"

"Oh, Marinette," Cinderella sighed, as she embraced the other girl with both arms and held her close. "As I told you: there will be a place for you here however long you want it."

"But I-"

"I don't think you're a bad daughter," Cinderella said. "But the one thing that I know for certain is that you are a wonderful friend."

Cinderella felt Marinette's arms encircle her to return the hug.

"Lucien wanted me to ask you to forgive him," she said.

"Was that your way of asking me to forgive him?"

"No," Marinette whispered. "I...I don't think he deserves to be forgiven. Not until he apologises for what he did."

"In that," Cinderella said. "I think we agree."

* * *

It was close to five o'clock before Lucrecia arrived, interrupting Cinderella in the midst of her history reading.

"I'm terribly sorry, highness," Lucrecia said. "I had a commission to complete before I could excuse myself even for the pleasure of your company."

"I understand completely," Cinderella replied. "Please sit down. I have some wonderful news to share with you."

Hope sparkled like starlight in Lucrecia's eyes. "News? News...from America?"

"Exactly!" Cinderella cried. "Eugene has written to me and lets me know that Colonel Gerard is safe and well after their first victory. They're in New Orleans, or they were when Eugene wrote. I suppose that was some time ago now."

Lucrecia clasped her hands together. "I knew it! I knew that I would feel it if any harm befell him! Thank you so much, your highness, for your consideration in telling me this."

"Not at all, it's nothing really."

"It is a great deal more than nothing to me," Lucrecia declared. "And His Highness, Prince Eugene, he too is well."

"Indeed," said Cinderella. "We are well matched in the safety of our beloveds."

"But only your beloved wrote to tell you so," Lucrecia pointed out.

"Yes," Cinderella murmured. "Eugene tells me that Colonel Gerard is waiting for some momentous news to report concerning himself before he...reports it to you."

Lucrecia rolled her eyes. "He is a good man, but a very foolish one at times. Perhaps I should stop writing to him until I secure a momentous new client and see how he likes it."

Cinderella chuckled. "Perhaps you could just ask him to write to you."

"No, I will not shame him," Lucrecia said. "I may roll my eyes but I don't want to fight over it. Thank you, princess, for serving as my Etienne's messenger."

"It was a perfect pleasure," Cinderella said. "Do you have to go or can you afford to stay."

"I'm afraid not, highness," Lucrecia replied. "I have work and it looks as though you do as well. Until another time."

* * *

It was half-past six by the time that Cinderella returned to her room to change for dinner; she hadn't been back since this morning, when she had asked Duchamp to look for her diamond earrings; she wondered whether they had been found as she climbed the last few stairs.

The guard upon the door stood aside for her as Cinderella pushed open the door and walked into her bedroom.

To find a note left on her pillow, accompanied by a bouquet of thirteen dark red roses.

Cinderella scowled. It was too much. On the day when a letter had arrived from Eugene...on the day when her real, true and only love had reached across the ocean to caress her with his words that she should suffer the attentions of this anonymous counterfeit, that she should be forced to compare this pretender love to the genuine article...it was too much. Too much by half! Anger twisted Cinderella's face as she stalked across the wooden bedroom floor and snatched the letter up off her pillowcase. She tore it open, to see what words this pest had conjured to torment her on the day of Eugene's letter. On the day of Eugene's letter!

 _O Angelic Mistress of My Heart, forgive me. Curb your stubborn pride and look with ordinary mercy upon your humblest and most devoted servant. Forbear your ear to those foul and fiendish councillors who would poison you against my devotion and with your lovely smile show me forgiveness._ It went on in such a vein, pleas for forgiveness replacing the usual protestations of love.

 _Forgive you?_ Cinderella thought. _Forgive you for what? For bothering me with these letters? You never asked me to forgive you for that before. You never even seemed to think that it might be something you should feel guilty about. What, then, are you asking for forgiveness..._

The letter dropped from Cinderella's suddenly trembling fingers.

 _He asked me to ask you to forgive him._

 _No. No, it can't be. That...that's not possible. Lucien...it can't possibly be him._

She was wrong. She had to be wrong. It was an absurd connection, a ridiculous conclusion to draw on the basis of a single word. Just because Lucien sought her forgiveness, and the author of these letters sought her forgiveness, it did not follow that Lucien was the author of the letters. That she should draw such a conclusion anyway was a symptom of her lack of education.

Lucien was her friend. They had had a minor falling out, but one that would be amended the moment he apologised for breaking his promise and for growing angry with her. Lucien was her friend, there was no way that he would treat her like this.

Then why couldn't she dismiss the idea from her mind?

Either way, whether it was Lucien or not - it wasn't Lucien, it wasn't...Cinderella so very much hoped that it wasn't - she had had just about enough of this. It was time to put a stop to it.

* * *

"So, I heard something very interesting at dinner tonight," Serena said.

She and her brother stood in a dark corridor, with the only light coming from a candle, mounted upon a black iron candlestick held in Anatole's unwavering hand. It illuminated only half of his face, and doubtless hers too. The rest was cast into shadow.

"Well, go on," Anatole purred. "Do tell."

"Cinderella is trying to be cunning," Serena said. "She's going to lay a trap for Lucien."

"A trap?"

"She's going to reply to his latest love letter, pouring out her heart to him, confessing her love for him; she's going to invite him to meet her, in the gardens…where annoying Angelique and her pet dog will be hidden and waiting."

"That seems quite a mean-spirited idea for our good-hearted princess."

"Yes, it does rather, doesn't it? It was Angelique's idea."

"Ah, that explains a great deal," Anatole said.

"Doesn't it just," Serena muttered. "Now, here is what you have to do: go to Lucien, and warn him. Except, don't tell him the truth, obviously."

"Obviously."

"Tell him…" Serena paused for a moment while she considered the matter. "Tell him that Cinderella is at last willing to confess her love to him, and consummate it now that her husband is away and her bed has grown lonely. But tell him that she has unwisely and naively confessed her plan and her feelings to wicked little Angelique, who has a set a trap for him at the rendezvous that Cinderella proposes."

"That sly little minx."

"Isn't she just? Tell Lucien that he must catch Cinderella alone some time before then if he wishes to win the prize. Do you think he'll believe that?"

"Will he believe it? His only question will be why it took so long," Anatole declared, with a rich undercurrent of amusement in his voice that he didn't bother to hide. "The real question is: how will Cinderella react?"

"That doesn't matter," Serena declared. "I already have more than enough to start smearing her in the _Courier_ : I have the gifts, I have his continual visits, I have Cinderella's unnatural closeness to Jean Taurillion…all I need is someone willing to say that they have lain with her…and then the world will see Cinderella's sweet façade crumble into dust. I wonder how many people will cheer for her when they find out she's nothing but an adulterous little whore."

Serena couldn't see it, but she was grinning like a maniac.

"It's a little frightening," Anatole said. "How much you seem to be enjoying this."

Serena laughed. "Are you frightened of me, big brother? Do I scare you?"

"No," he said. "But if she had any sense, you'd certainly scare Cinderella."

* * *

Cinderella walked down the empty corridor, with the only sound the slight noise of her soft footfalls upon the wooden floor.

This was one of the less-often used areas of the palace, and so there were no servants bustling this way or that, no guards in view; no one, at present, here except herself.

On the other hand, it was also by far the quickest way to reach Philippe's nursery from Cinderella's tower, and Cinderella didn't see the need or feel the inclination to take the long way around.

Today was a public holiday and, that being the case, Cinderella had decided to grant herself a brief respite from her duties and accompany Philippe and his grandmother to the fair currently being held in the city. She was on her way to get them both, and then they would all go together.

She hoped that the guards weren't going to get in the way. Jean had insisted on no less than four, including himself; Cinderella wasn't able to argue with his contention that it was dangerous outside, nor was it possible to dispute his point that he couldn't protect the three of them all by himself…but she hoped Philippe wasn't intimidated by having a soldier follow him around.

At some point today Cinderella was also going to speak to Madame Clairval about a suggestion that His Grace had broached to her about inviting some young boys of good family to the palace to befriend Philippe and become his playmates. They wouldn't live here, as Cinderella's ladies or the King's gentlemen did, but they would visit him frequently. Cinderella herself thought it was an excellent idea; it was, after all, how Eugene had met Colonel Gerard, and it would be good for Philippe to have some friends his own age. But she wasn't going to agree to anything until she'd spoken to his grandmother about it.

As she walked down the lonely, empty corridor, Cinderella thought about the note that she had left on her bed. It invited her anonymous correspondent to meet with her tomorrow at a place she had chosen with plenty of bushes for Jean and Angelique to hide in, but Cinderella didn't actually know what it said apart from that. She…she hadn't felt comfortable writing out a lying confession of love, even in deceit; or perhaps the fact that it was a lie had made it even worse for her. Whatever the case, she hadn't been able to do it, and Serena had agreed to write it out for her with some help from Grace. Cinderella hadn't wanted to read what they had written; she trusted them to include all the important details.

Cinderella was dressed in white, with a tailored bodice and a floor length skirt that billowed outwards, helped by several layers of airy chiffon petticoats that gave it bounce and volume both. The sleeves were short and off the shoulder, and consisted of several layers of almost transparent silk that wrapped tightly around Cinderella's shoulders and wound around the neckline of her gown, with the topmost layer being white, the bottom-most pink, and the other layers being shades in between. The skirt had a pink peplum, and there was a pink sash wrapped around Cinderella's waist, tied into a large bow at the back. White gloves enclosed her hands with lace frills extending a few inches down her forearms. Cinderella's hair hung down to her shoulders, restrained by a white headband with a bow on top. A simple pearl necklace hung loosely from her neck, while twin pearl bracelets were wrapped around her wrists, where the lace frills on her gloves began. More pearls dangled further up her forearms, while pearl earrings peaked out from behind her hair.

She held her skirt up delicately beneath her fingertips as she walked down the corridor. Abruptly, Cinderella stopped. What was that sound? She could hear…something. Was it the whisper of a voice, the scuff of a foot, it was soft, but…

Cinderella thought she heard a door creaking, but none of the doors along this corridor opened.

She turned around. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

There was no answer. Cinderella turned around again, only to find Lucien standing right in front of her, wearing a clean blue suit with a matching kerchief and a pink carnation in his buttonhole. His buttons looked all polished, and his trousers freshly pressed, as though he had taken greater than usual care with his appearance. He stared down at her, and beamed.

"Oh!" Cinderella took a step backwards with a surprised gasp. "Where did you come from?"

"It doesn't matter where I came from," Lucien declared. "It only matters where we go from here."

"I…I suppose so," Cinderella murmured, not really understanding what that had to do with her question.

"Did I startle you?" Lucien asked. "If so, I'm sorry. I never meant to frighten you. I would never hurt you, Cinderella."

"I'm sure you'd never mean to," Cinderella conceded, still speaking very quietly. She smiled, although her smile probably contained a hint of her nervousness. "What brings you here today, Lucien? You look as if you're on your way somewhere important."

"I am somewhere important, very important," Lucien whispered. He reached for her right hand.

Cinderella took a step backwards. "What are you doing here?"

Lucien looked confused. "Why are you behaving this way? You've never played the coquette before, why start now? Why pretend that you're still upset with me about some trifling thing."

"I am upset with you," Cinderella insisted. "You haven't apologised and now…I don't regard broken promises as a trifle, especially not between friends."

"Friends," Lucien said scornfully.

"Yes," Cinderella replied. "We are friends, aren't we?"

Lucien didn't reply to that. He acted as though he hadn't even heard her. "I don't understand, all of a sudden you…you forgave me!"

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did, in your letter!" Lucien cried. "When you confessed your true feelings for me you forgave me and admitted that you were wrong to make such a fuss about nothing the way you did. In fact you begged _my_ forgiveness for your obstinacy and of course I give it to you. I would forgive you anything, my Cinderella, because I love you so."

"My letter?" Cinderella whispered.

"Yes," Lucien said. "Your letter, the one you left for me in your room."

Cinderella gasped. _No. No, no, please no._ It couldn't be. It had to be. She didn't want it but here it was. She had been afraid of this, she had tried to dismiss it and deny it but here it was, undeniable. Lucien, her friend, her first friend in the palace, who had comforted her when she felt low, who had come rushing to check on her when she was hurt…Lucien, whom she had thought a friend, had…how could a friend behave this way?

"It was you," Cinderella said. "You sent me those letters. All of them?"

Lucien nodded eagerly. "Yes, my darling angel. I love you, I've loved you from the very moment that I first laid eyes upon you; I guarantee that no one in the entire world will ever love you the way that I do."

"I asked you to stop," Cinderella said softly.

Lucien talked over her. "And I know that you've always loved me too, you were just too afraid of your brute of a husband to admit it."

"I asked you to stop writing to me."

"But now that you have admitted it then we can be together at last. We can get away from this place and live and love and not care tuppence for old men or for young, no matter how they sermonise or disapprove." He spread his arms out wide. "Oh, my Cinderella, kiss me! I've waited for so long to taste your loveliness!"

Cinderella retreated another step away form him. "Kiss you?" she said. "Kiss you? You…do you have any idea how you've made me feel over these last weeks?"

Lucien's arms dropped slightly to his sides. "Cinderella…I don't understand."

"I asked you to stop!" Cinderella cried. "I asked you to stop leaving me letters! I told you gently that I would never love another man but Eugene, I told you less gently that I didn't want any more letters from you but you kept on sending them anyway."

"Because I knew that wasn't how you really felt-"

"Yes, it was!" Cinderella shouted. "Yes, it was, Lucien, I don't love you."

Lucien's eyes were wide with childlike horror, as though he had just found out that there was no Father Christmas. "But…but you said you did."

"Because you left me with no other choice," Cinderella replied. "I know that I lied to you and that was wrong of me, but Lucien…do you have any idea how upset you've made me? How frightened you've made me? Did you know that Angelique sleeps on the floor of my bedroom because I'm too afraid to sleep alone in case someone…in case you came in while I was sleeping?"

"I wondered what she was doing there," Lucien said.

Cinderella let out a ragged gasp of horror, and it was the turn of her own eyes to widen with shock. "You…you came into my room while I was sleeping?"

"Sometimes," Lucien said, and his tone gave no evidence that he considered that he had done anything wrong. "Sometimes I watched you from outside. You're beautiful when you sleep. Almost as beautiful as you look when you smile."

Cinderella gasped again. "Lucien…"

"What's the matter?" Lucien asked. "You think Prince Eugene doesn't watch you sleep sometimes when you lie in bed together?"

"Eugene is my husband!" Cinderella cried. "That's different, he…have you been watching me? Have you been…spying on me? Have you…have you seen me undressed?"

"Your body is as beautiful as your face," Lucien declared.

Cinderella let out a kind of shriek of pain. Her stomach felt as though she had gotten a sudden and severe case of the cramps, it was all that corset and self-control could do between them to stop her from doubling over in the grip of this sickening pain that now engulfed her.

"Cinderella, what's wrong?" Lucien asked as he stepped towards her.

"Not another step!" Cinderella cried. "Not another step closer. I…I don't believe this."

"Prince Eugene-"

"Eugene is my husband!"

"So? What difference does a band of gold make in matters of the heart?" Lucien demanded. "Do you think he loves you the way I do?"

"Love me?" Cinderella said, in a tone of abject disbelief. "Love me? You…you spied on me. You peeped on me. You harassed me, you took money from me, you terrified me, you…you _lied_ to me. If you loved me then you would never have treated me this way."

"I only did it because I knew we'd be together eventually, so what was the harm," Lucien said. "I knew that I'd win you, because I deserved you more than he did, and it was only blind luck that he-"

"Win me?" Cinderella said. "I'm not a stuffed animal for you to win throwing horseshoes at the fair. I don't belong to whoever draws the lucky ticket at the tombola. I'm a woman who has chosen a man for the rest of my life and I didn't choose you."

"Yes you did!" Lucien insisted. "You know you did, stop lying! You love me, you've always loved me, you told me with your glances."

"I don't love you!" Cinderella shouted. "I will never love you." She took a deep breath. "Now I want you to go, right now. And I don't ever want to see you again." She turned away, and began to walk back the way she'd come. She would take the longer route to Philippe's nursery.

It would give her time to regain control of herself.

Cinderella was arrested by a tight, painfully tight grip upon her arm that pulled her up short.

"You can't," Lucien said. "I won't let you."

"Let go of my arm," Cinderella said.

"Tell the truth."

"Let me go!" Cinderella shrieked. She tried to pull away from his but his grip was too strong. "Let me go, I…I command it!"

"Why are you lying?"

"I'm not!"

Lucien shook his head furiously. "No. No, this isn't right. This is…this is Angelique! She's making you say-"

"How many times will you make me say it: I don't love you. Now let me go!"

"No!" Lucien roared, as he pushed Cinderella into the nearest wall. "You…you lied to me? You teased me, you flirted with me, and you made me think that there was something between us that we both felt?"

"I never-"

"Yes you did!" Lucien bellowed. "You can't treat me like this. You can't build up my hopes and then dismiss me. I love you, I want you, I want you! I want you and I deserve to have you; I deserve you! I want you, and I'm going to-"

"Get off her!"

There was a blur of blue and braid as Jean collided with Lucien, slamming into him like a wave striking the shore, and like the wooden shack built on the beach Lucien collapsed under the impact as Jean bore him to the ground. Jean raised his fist to bring it down like a hammer onto Lucien's face.

"Disgusting, little-" Jean hit him again, and raised his fist for a third blow.

"Jean, stop, that's enough," Cinderella cried. She heard boots thudding on the floor as more guards ran towards them. Her legs felt faint, they gave way beneath her as Cinderella found herself sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. "That's enough," she murmured feebly, as her chest heaved and she struggled for breath.

"Your Highness, he-"

"I know," Cinderella murmured. _I thought he was my friend._ "I know."

"Cinderella," Lucien moaned. "Cinderella, angel, I-"

"Not another word from you!" Jean snapped. "Or I'll knock your teeth out."

"Jean," Cinderella said softly. "Don't. Did…Lucien…did you steal my jewellery?" Duchamp had found more items missing than just her diamond earrings when she had gone through Cinderella's jewellery box yesterday.

Lucien looked at her. He blinked. "When we're together…I thought that you'd want some of it still."

"We are never going to be together!" Cinderella snapped. "I am married, I am in love, I don't love you! But…but I would like my jewellery back, please."

"I'll get it back for you, your highness," Jean said.

Cinderella nodded.

"Cinderella," Lucien pleaded. "Please. Please, I know that you-"

"Shut it!" Jean roared. "Your Highness, what shall I do with this…thing?"

Cinderella closed her eyes. "Take him away."

"Of course, Highness, but where? The Gatehouse?"

"No," Cinderella murmured. "No, I don't want him imprisoned. Just…take him away, and please see I get my things back, but don't punish him."

Lucien made a relieved sound. "Cinderella, I knew that you-"

"Don't!" Cinderella said, as her eyes opened. "I don't want to hear anything else. I don't…I don't ever want to see you again. I'm letting you go because…because I don't want to upset Marinette, but if you come here again I'll have you arrested. Do you understand?"

Lucien nodded mutely, even though he looked as though he couldn't quite believe it.

Jean hauled him up to his feet. "Right, let's get you-"

"Jean," Cinderella murmured. "Can you…can you stay a moment please?"

Jean looked down at her. His face…misery, concern and incomprehension warred across his face. He nodded. "Sergeant Bourgogne, take this rubbish outside and wait for me there."

"Yes, sir," the sergeant said, as he and another soldier pinioned Lucien by the arms and hauled him away.

"I love you!" Lucien yelled. "I deserve you! I've done everything that I could do to earn you! What more do I have to do? What do I have to do?"

"Sergeant, shut him up!" Jean yelled.

Lucien wisely didn't say anything else. He just stared over his shoulder at Cinderella with pleading eyes, until at last they dragged him out of sight.

Jean stood over Cinderella. He had been so angry and so decisive but now he looked uncertain. Tentatively, he held out one hand. "Do you need a hand up, princess?"

"I thought he was my friend," Cinderella said. She sniffed. "I thought…I'm such an idiot."

"No, your highness, I don't believe that," Jean said. "If he fooled you…that is his fault, not yours for being fooled."

"Jean," Cinderella said. "Jean, will you…will you make a promise?"

"Of course, princess."

"You…you're the only man who's never lied to me, never hurt me," Cinderella said. "Please…please don't change that. Please…promise me that you won't change that."

Jean knelt down on the floor in front of her, descending to one knee like a knight of old. "Your Highness…Your Highness, you have raised me up. More than that you have raised up Angelique from nothing and given her a future such as we never dreamed of, and for that alone you could kick me like a dog each day for the rest of my life and I would thank you for it. I am your man, and I'll be true to you while truth remains, you have my word."

"Thank you," Cinderella whispered. "I…I don't know what I'd do without you."

"So long as you had Angelique still, you would do fine, princess."

Cinderella smiled. "Can you help me up, please?"

"Of course," Jean said, as he rose to his feet and helped Cinderella to the same. "Your Highness…if I am going to be attending to that man I do not think it safe for you-"

"I'm sure you don't," Cinderella murmured. "Do you think there'll be time to go after you get back? Philippe was looking forward to it."

"Perhaps, highness."

"Please try," Cinderella said. "As I said, he's looking forward to it. I suppose I shall have to go and tell him. Could you…no, you have so much to do already, but if you see anyone on your way, could you ask them to send Marinette to the nursery. I…it's best if she hears this from me, I think."

"As you command, your highness."

He left her then, and Cinderella was alone once more. She took a deep breath, she tried to calm herself and collect her thoughts and feelings, but…but it was so hard.

 _I thought he was my friend._

Cinderella tried to walk on to the nursery, but after only a few paces she stumbled into the nearby wall.

 _Could I…could I ever have loved him? If…if I had met Lucien before I met Eugene, would I have loved him instead?_

 _Perhaps I would have thought so. I didn't really know what love was until I felt it. I wouldn't have loved him the way that I love Eugene, but…but I might have settled for it anyway, if I had come to the lesser feeling before the greater._

It was an uncomfortable thought, but it was an honest one: _yes, Lucien; I could have loved you once…if only the timing had been different._

After all, he had been sweet and kind to her once…but Cinderella didn't think that she would have been happy on that other path, where she had chosen Lucien instead. The way that he had behaved just now, how upset he had gotten, how…entitled he had felt. Would he have shown that side of himself to her in the end, no matter what? She could not doubt it. Something would have happened, eventually and…and she would have regretted her choice of him.

 _I made the right choice. Or I was blessed with the right choice by fate. It was not meant to be, and I am fortunate in that._

 _I thought he was my friend._

Cinderella made her way with leaden feet, each step seeming to drag along the ground as though she was pulled rocks behind the train of her dress. She reached the nursery after more time than it probably needed for her to get there, especially on the shorter route, found herself leaning against the door frame.

Philippe and Esme were both dressed and ready, Philippe in a blue sailor suit of the sort popular for small boys, and Esme in a dark dress with a high collar and ornamented broach pinned in it.

"Your Highness," Esme declared when she saw her. "What's the matter?"

 _Is it so obvious just from looking at me?_ Cinderella walked into the room, but tripped over the hem of her dress and fell with a gasp to the floor. Fortunately she landed on her knees, rather than flat on her face, but it still brought both Esme and Philippe running.

"Stepmother!" Philippe cried. "Are you alright?"

Cinderella tried to smile, though she wasn't sure how it actually looked to him. "Good morning, Philippe. You look adorable this morning." She sighed. "I'm afraid that we won't be able to go to the fair until a little later today. I'm terribly sorry."

Madame Clairval knelt down, placing one hand on Philippe's shoulder. "Are you feeling well, your highness."

"I'm fine, thank you," Cinderella said. "But…something happened to me on the way here, and Jean and his men are having to deal with the consequences, which means that they won't be able to protect us until they're finished. When they return, though, I promise that we'll go. Please forgive me."

Philippe smiled. "It doesn't matter, Stepmother. As long as you're alright."

"Oh, you're such a darling," Cinderella said. She reached out, and cupped his cheeks between her hands. "Philippe, when you grow up to be tall and handsome like your father, please remember to be honest and kind to the girls who trust you."

Philippe nodded. "I will. I promise."

Cinderella leaned forward, and kissed him on the forehead. "Good. Because I'm one of those girls myself, and I'm trusting you now to be honest with me."

Philippe laughed.

"Are you sure that you're well enough to come with us, when we go?" Esme asked. "Not that I don't want you there, but…"

"I'm sure I'll be fine," Cinderella said. "I just need time to…to…"

Esme looked as though she both wanted to know what had happened and yet didn't want to ask Cinderella directly. "Is there anything that I can get you?"

"I might ring for some tea, if you'll join me," Cinderella said. She climbed unsteadily to her feet, and turned towards the bellpull – shorter than most, to prevent Philippe from bothering the staff - by the door.

Before she could reach it, Marinette appeared in the doorway. "You, um, you wanted to see me?" she asked tremulously.

Cinderella closed her eyes for a moment. "Yes, Marinette, I'm afraid there's something I have to tell you."

* * *

Marinette slammed the door behind her as she stalked into her house.

She had never felt this angry before. She had never felt angry at all, not really, not the way that she felt now. Usually she felt too scared to be angry but now she felt absolutely _furious_.

How could he do something like this? How could he do all of this? The distressing letters would have been bad enough, but that he had been watching her without her knowledge and then to…if Ensign Taurillion hadn't arrived then…would he have? She didn't want to believe it, not of her brother, but from what Cinderella had told her, from the way she had been…Marinette didn't know what else to think.

How could her own brother behave in such a way? Cinderella had trusted him and he had…it was _evil_. Marinette didn't know how else to think about it.

"Lucien?" Mother called from the sitting room. "Are you back so soon?"

Marinette strode into the sitting room to find her mother sitting by the fire. "No, mother, I'm not Lucien. He isn't here, then?" She didn't know whether to be glad that she wouldn't hear him justify himself to her or disappointed that she wouldn't have the chance to confront him over his behaviour.

"No, dear, he went out to meet a gentleman from the press."

Marinette's anger was doused in a sudden bucket of cold water. "He…the press?"

"Yes, they were very interested to learn everything about that horrid girl and the way that she has been mistreating my poor boy."

Marinette blinked. "That horrid…you mean Cinderella?"

"Oh, standards are slipping everywhere these days," Mother moaned. "I remember when queens and princesses were possessed of true grace and courtesy. Why, in your father's day I recall attending a ball at the palace, when Queen Isabelle complemented me upon my gown and told me that I danced with a graceful elegance that was _sans pareil_. Now there was a true queen…oh, but what can you expect when scullions are raised so high."

"I cannot think of anyone better suited to the crown than Cinderella," Marinette said. "She is kind, she is compassionate, she always has consideration for others and has not an ounce of pride in her. She forgives others their mistakes as readily as she admits her own, she never takes anyone or anything for granted and she is always, always trying to improve herself."

"Nonsense! Lucien has told me what she is, and my good boy would never lie to me."

"What has he told you?" Marinette demanded. "Has he told you how he harassed the princess for weeks, months? Has he told you what he did to her today?"

"Don't shout at your mother, girl," Mother cried. "And no, Lucien has told me the truth and not whatever self-serving revision that that unworthy tart has cooked up. He has told me how our princess flirted with him, courted him with gifts, how he indulged her unwelcome attentions and pursuit before succumbing to her pressure. And then, when they had lain together, she turned on him, the little minx, and tried to cast him out as though he were the one at fault! Set her little dogs on him to beat him, threaten him, abuse him. Well, we shall see what the world says when it knows the truth. Lucien tells me the _Courier_ will print his story across their front page!"

"I can only hope that's as much a lie as everything else he's told you," Marinette muttered.

"Marinette!" Mother howled. "I will not have you talk of your own brother that way and I will not have you take the side of that low-born harlot. Why, I will not even have you in your service another moment. Sit down here, and think upon the way you are slandering your brother's good name."

"No," Marinette said.

"No? What on earth do you mean, girl, no?"

"I mean that I will not sit down and I will not apologise for what I've said and I will not leave the side of Princess Cinderella!" Marinette shouted. Cinderella had been…she had been so kind, and so generous. After today, even more than before, no one would have blamed her for casting out Marinette but she had not, she didn't appear to have even considered it. _I meant what I said yesterday, Marinette. There is still a place for you here. There will always be a place for you._

Madame Gerard rose stiffly to her feet. "Marinette Gerard, if you go back to that palace and that girl then you will not be welcome in this house while I am mistress of it!"

 _Then I choose the place where I have neither been belittled nor asked to manipulate a good person for my own advantage._ Marinette took a deep breath. "Then it seems that this is goodbye, Mother. Although I hope you change your mind, I recommend that you not wait for me to change mine. Farewell." She half turned to go, pausing in the doorway. "Oh, and by the way. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, and I'm sure Etienne will be very cross with me for it, but I'm afraid that I can't keep it in any longer: Etienne is engaged to a dress-maker!" She slammed the door behind her before her mother could respond.

 _Is Lucien really going to tell that story to the press?_

 _And what will the public say when he does?_

 _How am I going to explain this to Cinderella?_

* * *

 _Author's Note: The Livy that Cinderella is reading is Book XXXIX chapter 9, the beginning of the account of the Bacchanalian Conspiracy; it's a cracking story, very romantic, and the fact that it features an evil step-father and a love story with a happy ending made it a shoo-in to use here._

 _Looking back, it's strange to remember that I originally meant Lucien to be somewhat sympathetic. My original plan, and this is definitely proof that the first idea isn't always the best, was that Cinderella was going to be seduced by Anatole while Eugene was away (as I've previously mentioned I'd been watching the BBCs_ War and Peace _when I started re-writing this story) and Lucien was going to be a more sympathetic foil to Anatole. Once I decided that having Cinderella have an affair, or seriously contemplate one, did a grave disservice to her character it made more sense to play up Lucien as an antagonist, leaning into the creepiness of his behaviour and emphasising Cinderella's distress at his methods._

 _This isn't the last that we'll see of Lucien, and it isn't the last time he'll make an impact in the story, but it is the end in many ways of a subplot that started all the way back in chapter 5 of this story. I hope I did it justice._


	33. Dirt on a White Dress

Dirt on a White Dress

Cinderella let the paper drop from her trembling fingers. She couldn't bear to read any more.

The headline, boldly proclaiming that she was _SOILED!_ said everything that needed to be said. There was little need to read on.

But she had done so regardless, and what she read…it left her feeling ill in her stomach.

 _How could Lucien treat me this way?_

Cinderella had, in her own opinion at least, been merciful to him. True, she had not forgiven him, and perhaps that would have been the ultimate display of mercy, but he hadn't apologised for anything that he had done to her, although even if had…she wasn't sure if she could have forgiven him, knowing just what he had done; what he had confessed to doing.

 _He spied on me when I was undressed._ Just the thought that he had done so, just the thought that other people could do as well, made Cinderella shudder. She…had a hard time getting undressed, even in this place that was supposed to be her private and most intimate sanctum. Her fright and her foolishness were making Duchamp's job harder and more laborious, but Cinderella couldn't help it, not while she knew…she had asked Angelique to try and find the peep-holes in her rooms so that they could be close off, but so far they hadn't had much luck.

 _When I first came here these rooms seemed so delightful to me, but now…now there are times they seem a prison._

At least Angelique could sleep in her own bed again. Jean had overseen the bricking up of the side-entrance that Lucien had used to sneak into the palace, and the guards on the gate had strict instructions not to admit him. There was no longer any fear of him creeping into Cinderella's bedroom while she slept.

If only she could be as rational in the face of all the things that he had done.

Still…she had been merciful to him. Cinderella thought so, anyway. She had not punished him. She had taken back those things that were hers, she had barred him from the grounds, these things were mild enough compared to what he had done to her. But it was too much for him, clearly. The terms had evidently been so harsh for him that he had decided to get revenge on her by trampling her name into the mud of scandal.

Three days had passed and still the _Courier_ was not done with gloating over the muck-raking allegations that it had created to slander her.

And the worst part…the worst part was the way that they were not all lies. Some things Lucien and the reporters had just invented between them: Cinderella had never lain with Lucien, nor had she ever encouraged him to think that she would lie with him, or flirted with him or played coy with him or led him on in any of the ways that she suggested. But when they brought up the bracelet that Cinderella had given him on the night of her home-coming ball, when they talked about the money that she had given him, when they talked about her time spent with him…worse that inventing falsehoods, in Cinderella's opinion, was the way they took gestures of friendship and honest kindness and twisted them into something sordid and deceitful.

 _He told me he loved me, but obviously he doesn't care one bit about how much it's hurting me to read all of this._

And that wasn't all. Not content with Lucien's lies about himself, the Courier had proceeded to invent all sorts of scandal about Jean as well. They talked about Cinderella surrounding herself with male favourites, even though Jean was the only man in Cinderella's circle now that Eugene was away (unless you counted Philippe anyway, and Cinderella very, very much hoped that nobody was counting Philippe). They alleged that their relationship was far closer than that between a guard and his princess, or even between friends. They said…they said so many horrible things.

"What am I going to do?" Cinderella murmured.

The expressions of her ladies-in-waiting, gathered around her in the sitting room, reflected helpless sympathy for her position and her plight.

"I'm afraid it's very hard to do anything, seeing as it's true," Serena said.

Angelique made a sound as though she was choking. Actually, it turned out that she was choking, and everything paused for a moment while Marinette thumped her on the back until the piece of cupcake was out. Her eyes were watery and her face was red, but as soon as she could speak she spoke in tones of outrage. "Excuse me? It's true? Have I missed something somewhere?"

Serena made a tutting sound as though it was frustrating to have to deal with people as dense as Angelique. "Of course Cinderella didn't sleep with Lucien, or the other one for that matter. But you did give him one of your bracelets-"

"Lucien needed money," Cinderella protested.

"I'm sure it did, but it could just as easily have been a love token," Serena said. "And then there is the money, the visits-"

"Which I never requested," Cinderella said.

"But you did welcome them," Grace said. "We…Cinderella, we saw you, you were never unhappy to see him."

"Because I thought he was my friend!" Cinderella cried.

"I believe you, Cinderella," Serena said soothingly, leaning forward to place a hand on Cinderella's own. "We all believe you. But when the facts are not in dispute, only an incorrect interpretation that fits those facts…there is very little that can be done to combat that."

Cinderella frowned. "So I must do nothing while people think that I…that I'm…is there nothing that I can do? Must I do nothing while they say these…these things about me?" _What will Eugene say when he hears of this? What will he think? What should I tell him?_

Eugene…Eugene would believe her when she told him that this was all slander, she was sure of that. He had his faults, as did she…but Cinderella trusted him to have faith in her. After what had happened between them…Cinderella honestly believe that they were beyond the power of lies to hurt them now. Perhaps before, before…everything, then she might have felt differently, but now…he would believe her. She was not afraid of that.

It was the reactions of all others that put her in fear.

"Nothing is exactly what you should do," Serena declared with, well, serene confidence. "You're the princess, it's beneath your dignity to answer these scurrilous allegations."

"If you don't deny it, people will think that you can't deny it!" Angelique said.

"But she can't deny it," Grace said. "I mean…not all of it."

"She can deny the important bits," Angelique snapped. "You owe Jean that much, you owe him more than silence."

"Do you want to stand up before the country and admit everything that you did?" Serena demanded. "Is that what the princess regent should be doing?"

"There's no shame in anything that you did," Angelique declared as she surged to her feet off the stool on which she'd been sitting. "Yes, some of it was…well, it was a little bit stupid, but none of it was wrong! All of it was well-intentioned. You haven't done anything that you should be ashamed of, and if you have to admit that you made some mistakes at least you can deny the things that you really didn't do." Angelique's hands were balled up into fists by her sides. "If you won't do it for yourself…then do it for Jean. These allegations…if this is hurting you, think of how it will hurt him too, that people will think…please, Cinderella, you can't just do nothing."

"You can and you should," Serena said. "Not only would you have to admit a great many things, but you don't even have a compelling narrative to offer in return."

"A narrative?" Cinderella asked.

"Are you going to tell the truth about what happened?" Grace asked. "Are you going to tell the papers that Lucien…assaulted you?"

"No," Cinderella said. "No, I couldn't do that."

"Why not?" Angelique said. "It's true."

"Because…because it would be very cruel of me to treat him that way," Cinderella replied.

"His treatment of you was pretty wretched in itself," Augustina said. "And still is, in point of fact."

"All the more reason why I should be more gentle with him," Cinderella murmured. "And besides, I…I suppose I'm partly to blame. Perhaps I did encourage him, without meaning to."

"Probably," Serena said, in a very apologetic tone and with a very reluctant expression on her face. "We all know that you never meant to suggest anything of the sort, but…"

Cinderella glanced at her out of the corners of her eyes. She didn't really want to hear what Serena might say next…and yet at the same time it would be irresponsible for her not to hear it. If she had encouraged Lucien, if she had driven him to this…who else might she have encourage as well, and what should she do to prevent it in future? "Go on."

Serena's eyes sparkled with compassion as she reached out and rubbed Cinderella's arm. "You may be, you are, a virtuous girl, Cinderella; but you do behave like a shameless jezebel. The way you act around men, the way you dress, the way you tart yourself up, you adorn yourself-"

"Oh, come on!" Angelique's voice was so loaded with scorn she could have fired grapeshot out of her mouth. "You're either being daft or naïve or both. Cinderella doesn't…the way you dress is fine, the jewels were given to you for a reason and if you're not supposed to look pretty then why do you have a maid whose main job is to help you look pretty?"

"A married woman is supposed to look pretty for her husband," Serena declared sharply. "Not for strange men who find their way into her bedroom."

"What about looking pretty for herself?"

"Ladies, please," Cinderella said. "Please don't fight. I know that you both have my best interests at heart."

Serena smiled. "In this matter you must be guided by experience, by those of us who have inhabited this world all our lives and understand its rules. You cannot be ruled by feelings, however well-intentioned."

"You must endure," Grace said. "As women have always done."

"I would disagree," Augustina said softly. "I would urge you not to endure, but to take control…except that you have nothing to offer. Unless you're willing to tell the truth about Lucien Gerard _and_ back up your claims by arresting him for his trespass then your denial will look weak and watery."

"I can't do that," Cinderella said.

"Then you must do nothing."

A growl rose from Angelique's throat. "If you want a narrative, I'll give you a narrative: I did it."

Cinderella frowned. "What did you?"

"I…" Angelique's face reddened. "I…lay with Lucien Gerard. More than once. That's what you should say to the press: that his coming here, that his visits, everything was just a cover for our…our romantic rendezvous, God help me. It will get you off the hook and explain why you haven't done anything about him."

"Angelique," Cinderella murmured.

Marinette's face twisted with distaste as she leaned forward. "But...that would mean...you'd be ruined! You wouldn't be able to stay here, you'd be-"

"I know," Angelique said. "Or...at least I thought as much. It will be worth it though."

"A most noble sacrifice," intoned Serena.

"Oh, Angelique, no," Cinderella cried. "No, I can't let you do something like that, I can't let you..." _I don't want to lose you._

"Then what-"

"No, Angelique," Cinderella repeated, more firmly this time. "No, there is another way. A much better way, were no one gets hurt."

"Cinderella-" Serena began.

"I can't, Serena," Cinderella said. "I can't just sit and do nothing while the reputation of a good man, someone I owe my life to, suffers. Angelique's right, Jean deserves better from me than that." She looked at Angelique. "And you deserve better from me than allowing you to ruin yourself for my sake."

"So, what are you going to do?" Augustina asked.

"I'm going to send for Monsieur Valis," Cinderella replied. "And tell the truth."

Serena pouted, if only very slightly. "You know you're own mind best, I'm sure, Cinderella...but I do hope that you know what you're doing. I wouldn't want for you to make a mistake."

"None of us would want that, any more than we would for anything to happen to you," Grace said. "And that is why I've got a wonderful present for you, Cinderella."

"Have you, Grace, have you really?" Serena murmured. "What a coincidence, I've got a gift for Cinderella as well."

"That is a coincidence, isn't it," Grace said, with just a tiny hint of gritted teeth.

Cinderella smiled. "That's very kind of you both, but really quite unnecessary. I already have-"

"Oh, you've got nothing like this, I promise you," Grace declared with a clarion confidence in her voice. "And you'll absolutely love it. He should be arriving any moment now."

"He?" Cinderella repeated. She leaned forwards. "Grace, what are you-"

"Your Highness!" Jean's yell echoed into the sitting room from beyond the bedroom door. "There's...there's a thing outside."

Cinderella rose to her feet. "A thing?" _Can't you be a little more specific?_

"A very...big thing."

"Yes, that will be your present, Cinderella," Grace said brightly.

Cinderella's brow was crinkled ever so slightly by a frown. _Grace called it he, but Jean called it a thing? Whatever is waiting outside my door?_ "It's alright Jean, let him in."

"Are you sure, your highness?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Cinderella said. "Everything will be fine." After all, Grace knew exactly what was going on even if Cinderella did not.

Cinderella took a few steps towards the doorway connecting the sitting room to the bedroom, even as she heard the door separating the bedroom from the landing creak open and Jean backed warily inside, looking as though he was trying not to anger a vicious dog.

A very large vicious dog.

"What in God's name is that?" Augustina demanded.

Cinderella, who had gasped in shock at the sight of Grace's 'gift', was wondering that herself. It...he...he was a man, although he was quite the largest man that Cinderella had ever seen. Taller than Eugene, taller even than Grace's brother whom Cinderella had rejected for the post of Groom of the Stool; he was so tall and so broad in the shoulders that Cinderella was a little amazed that he was able to fit through her door, and the dark hairs on his head brushed lightly against the ceiling. He was dressed in the livery of the du Villeroi family, wearing their coat of arms - a unicorn and a chimera combatant upon a scarlet field - upon his breast. Every part of his outfit strained to contain the muscles of arms and legs as thick as tree trunks, not to mention a chest like an anvil. He looked almost as though he had been carved out of stone.

"Don't be cruel, Augustina, for heaven's sake!" Grace cried. She got up, and came to stand by Cinderella. "This is Rollo; he is one of my family's most respected and valuable retainers."

"He looks like a troll," Angelique said.

Grace chuckled. "Don't be silly, they only have trolls in Scandinavia." She took Cinderella by the crook of the arm. "He's a man. A strong and formidable man. And now he's yours."

Cinderella's gaze flickered between Grace and Rollo. "Mine?"

"People have been trying to kill you," Grace said, as though Cinderella might have forgotten the fact. "For months, someone was able to get into your bedroom and harass you right out of your wits. Clearly your security leaves a little something to be desired."

"She's still alive, isn't she?" Angelique snapped. "No, wait, that didn't come out quite right; what I meant was that Cinderella has never been hurt by any of those who meant her harm-"

"Angelique, there is no need to be offended upon my account," Jean said, quietly and calmly. "If there is anything that may be done to keep the princess safe I welcome the doing of it. I am not shamed, and even if I were...my own pride is nothing before your highness' life."

"Quite so," Grace said. "Such maturity and understanding, while still so young. Rollo here is...well, just look at him. Keep him with you, and he will keep you safe from all perils."

Angelique folded her arms. "Alright, he's big, but he looks slow."

"Looks can be deceiving," Grace said, while a smile played across her lips. "What do you think, Cinderella? Isn't he magnificent?"

 _You talk about him like a zoo animal._ Cinderella thought. She glanced at Jean, who nodded slightly. Cinderella smiled. "That...this is very kind of you, Grace. I'm pleased to meet you, Monsieur Rollo." She held out one hand to him. He stared at it, and at her, with uncomprehending grey eyes.

Grace coughed. "Rollo, this is Princess Cinderella, your new mistress."

Rollo stared for a moment longer, before he bowed, ignoring Cinderella's hand.

"He's a man of few words," Grace said.

"Presumably because he doesn't know what they mean," Serena said acidly. "Still, I must congratulate you, Grace, you have presented Cinderella with a formidable gift."

"Please don't talk about him like he's a thing," Cinderella murmured. "It's rather unkind, don't you think?"

"Clearly, he's terribly offended," Serena muttered. "However, you fail to address Cinderella's true vulnerability."

"Serena?"

"It's all very well having an elephant trail around after you when you're out and about, and perhaps even follow you through the palace," Serena said. "But when you're getting a bath, when you're getting dressed, times when you're vulnerable and when no men can attend on you. Would Duchamp protect you from assassins?" Serena laughed at the very idea. "Michelle! You can come out now."

A young woman stepped out from Rollo's large shadow. Cinderella had had no idea that she was there, she had been completely hidden behind the enormous man's size. She too was tall, but tall within an ordinary sense rather than Rollo's mountainous vastness, which is to say that she was about a foot taller than Cinderella, even with Cinderella wearing high heels as she was now, and had at least a few inches over any of the ladies in the room. The sleeves of her dark maid's uniform were far too big and baggy for her, and the cuffs were twice as large as they needed to be. Her features were as sharp as knives, and her eyes were dark as the night sky.

She curtsied. "A pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"A maid," Grace said, taking no trouble to conceal her scepticism. "Don't you think Cinderella has enough of those?"

"Not just any maid," Serena replied. "A maid who happens to be a crack shot with a pistol."

"With your permission, ma'am, I will sleep at the foot of your bed, and attend you whenever you are in your chambers, as well as whenever else you may require me," Michelle said, in a voice that was dutiful, business-like, and almost devoid of feeling.

"Please, Cinderella," Serena said. "I'll sleep much better knowing that Michelle is sleeping in the same room as you."

Cinderella nodded. She would never have asked for anything like this, but since they had thought of it...it touched her. "You're very kind, both of you."

"Kindness? Hardly," Serena replied. "Your health and happiness is our prime concern."

Although Cinderella was grateful for these gifts that were not really gifts - but nevertheless redolent with care - Cinderella had no need of either of them at present, and so she dismissed Rollo, while Michelle stood silently in the corner of the sitting room all the rest of the time Cinderella was there, which was for another hour or so after she summoned Monsieur Valis - Cinderella continued her studying in the interim - until word was brought to her that he had arrived, and Cinderella hastened down to meet him.

* * *

"Thank you for coming, Monsieur," Cinderella said, spreading her blue skirt about her as she sat down. "And at such short notice."

Monsieur Valis of the Gazette wiped his nose with a rather dirty handkerchief. "The Princess Regent is so kind as to request his presence, and a royal correspondent comes running. I am flattered that your highness remembers me."

"How could I not, when you've been so generous to me in the past?" Cinderella replied. "I probably should have remembered you more often."

Valis blew his nose. "If I had been summoned it would have been my honour to attend." He put his handkerchief away, and picked his notebook up off the table that lay between them. "Now, what is it that your highness wishes to speak to me about this morning?"

"I think that you can probably guess, monsieur," Cinderella said.

"Probably, princess, but I cannot ask my editor to print my assumptions."

"I…" Cinderella hesitated for a moment, steeling herself for what was about to come. "I've asked you here to talk to you about the allegations that the _Courier_ has been making about me and…my conduct."

Valis' expression was inscrutable. There was nothing in his watery eyes to tell what he thought about the allegations. Did he believe them? Did he not? What did he really think about Cinderella? It was impossible for her to tell. "I see."

"You can't be surprised."

"No, highness," Valis admitted. "Do you wish me to ask the questions or do you wish to make a statement?"

"I deny everything connected with Ensign Jean Taurillion of the Royal Guard," Cinderella declared. "He has saved my life more than once, you've seen it happen yourself, I remember that you were there."

"Indeed, princess, at rally of the Anti-Corn Law League."

"He saved my life," Cinderella repeated. "And for that I am very fond of him. But our relations…J-" she remembered just in time that calling him 'Jean' might not be the best thing at this point. "Ensign Taurillion is always perfectly correct in my presence, and there is absolutely nothing untoward between us. Anyone who suggests otherwise, anyone who suggests that he could behave in such a way, does a good man a very great wrong. Very great indeed."

For a moment, there was only the sound of Monsieur Valis's pencil scribbling on his notebook. "I see. And yet I cannot help but notice, as my readers will notice, that you have not denied in the same breath the accusations made against you by Moniseur Lucien Gerard."

"I didn't lie with him," Cinderella said, and her voice trembled a little as she said it. "I never suggested that I would, I never…led him on. I was…I was his friend. I thought he was my friend."

Valis wrote down some more. "That was a more specific denial. Am I to take it then that there are some truthful accusations in the story published in my rival newspaper?"

Cinderella sighed, but said nothing.

Monsieur Valis let his notebook rest on his lap. "Silence, your highness, often seems like a confession in the court of public opinion."

"I gave him money," Cinderella admitted, in a still, small voice.

"Why?"

"Because I had money, and he was in debt," Cinderella said. "I thought it was the kind thing to do."

"Have you given money to pay off the debts of anyone else?"

"Sometimes, to some of my ladies-in-waiting."

More pencil scribbling sounds. "Did you give him a bracelet? Diamonds and sapphires?"

"Yes," Cinderella said. "But it wasn't any sort of love-token."

"Then what was it?"

"It was supposed to be worth a lot," Cinderella replied. "I was on my way to the ball, to celebrate coming home from my honeymoon, Lucien seemed so worried by his finances…I took off one of my bracelets and gave it to him. I had so many. At the time…it seemed the natural thing to do." She closed her eyes. "Lucien…he stole other jewellery from me, later. I had to send my guards to get it back."

"The same guards that he alleges you-"

"That didn't happen!" Cinderella said sharply, not waiting to hear what Lucien alleged had gone on between them. She was too aware of what he had said already. "I…I'm sorry, Monsieur, I just…"

"Quite all right, your highness," said the journalist. He wiped his nose away with his ragged handkerchief. "You say he stole from you."

"Yes," Cinderella said. "A few things, but…that wasn't all."

"No?"

"He…I didn't have my guards remove him from the palace because I was ashamed," Cinderella said. "I did it because he made advances towards me, and I wanted him gone."

"Advances?"

"Yes," Cinderella said, in such a tone as to hopefully suggest to Monsieur Valis that she would go into no further detail on the matter. It was not sufficiently damning a word as to make people wonder why she hadn't ordered Lucien arrested. Other than that…people could think what they liked.

She had been about to mention the love letters, but that…Cinderella didn't really want to talk about that. And besides, she had written back, and how many people wouldn't believe that she had done it in a failed attempt to trick Lucien into revealing himself?

Monsieur Valis scribbled something in his notebook. "One more question, highness: how does it make you feel to be the victim of such allegations?"

Cinderella looked down. _How do I feel? How do I feel?_

 _I wish I knew the answer to that._

"I feel…I feel less surprised than I would like to be that some people seem to want to see the bad in everything I do, even if they have to invent it," Cinderella said. "This isn't the first time I've come across that, even if it is the worst. But I am surprised, and disappointed, in Lucien. I though he was my friend…and now he has chosen to hurt me this way…I…I'm surprised and disappointed, as I said."

"Thank you, your highness," Monsieur Valis said. "I will endeavour to get this written up and printed as soon as possible."

"Do you think…" Cinderella hesitated. "Am I allowed to ask you this sort of question?"

"You are allowed to do anything you wish, princess, but in this case I cannot answer," Valis replied. "In this instance, I simply do not know."

* * *

Serena took a deep breath. She was not a woman who took fright easily, nor one who flinched from a necessary task, no matter how potentially arduous it was. She was not...

Serena stopped herself before she could finish the thought 'she was not weak like Princess Cinderella' because that wasn't really true, wasn't it? It wasn't true now, if it had ever been true, and as much as the old contempt might have pleased her vanity and provided her with a chuckle of amusement in the privacy of her own room, it would not serve her well in this contest. To defeat your enemies, you had to maintain a realistic appraisal of their strengths and weaknesses. Cinderella still had weaknesses, most notably an over-willingness to trust anyone who smiled and spoke kindly to her, an inability - or unwillingness - to look beyond the surface or suspect other people of deceit or cynical motives, and a lack of confidence that - although it had once been crippling - was now diminishing by the day. Most of all she suffered from a lack of preparedness; she was, or she had been, ignorant of so much that a woman of their class ought to know, and though she was learning as much as she could as quickly as she could...it was at times as though she didn't quite trust her newfound knowledge, compared against the remaining ignorance that she could neither see nor quantify.

Yes, Cinderella had her flaws still, and in those flaws lay Serena's hopes, but Serena was not so blind, vain nor foolish as to deny the princess - thinking of her as the little dish maid, as she once had, was another expression of a comfortable arrogance that she could no longer afford - her evident virtues: she had, if not the gift, then at least the ability to win and inspire loyalty and devotion in and from others; an awareness of her flaws of mingled vanity and insecurity though not, unfortunately and perhaps fatally for her, of her even greater flaw of naiveté; she was fairly intelligent, although her morality sometimes led her to behave foolishly; and she didn't appear to have a single immoral bone in her body. Serena had been inclined to sneer at that, and she was still inclined to pity the poor princess who must surely find it very dull to be so terribly _good_ all the time...but she had to admit that it was something of an advantage in her struggle to survive in her lofty new position. Cinderella could not be tempted into villainy, and even minor acts of vice tended to repulse her. And she had backbone, when it came to right and wrong; she knew one from the other and wasn't afraid to let you know it. To be sure, she would probably apologise immediately afterwards and take back all of her harsh words, but that didn't change the fact that she had shown you her fire first. That...that was probably Cinderella's greatest strength, her unyielding integrity.

Certainly Serena's task would have been made much easier if Cinderella would have just willingly slept with Lucien Gerard. Honestly, how many women didn't choose to have an affair while their husbands were away? Serena's mother had never observed such abstinence; it was as though Cinderella had no idea how the beau monde worked.

As she stood outside the door, Serena briefly pondered whether Cinderella would have remained so sickeningly virtuous had she been raised in the class she was born too instead of being reduced to servitude by her stepfamily. If Lady Tremaine decided - realised - that Cinderella, being prettier and more charming than either of her own daughters, was the horse to bet on and sought to profit from the connection, would Cinderella still be as she was now, sugar and spice and all things nice? Or would the salons have corrupted her the same way that servitude had, for want of a better word, ennobled her spirit? A question for the philosophers, ultimately; neither Serena nor Cinderella would ever know the answer. She must turn her mind downwards to more worldly concerns, such as how to get rid of Cinderella.

It was safe to say that the task of exploiting, humiliating and ultimately destroying the princess of Armorique had proved somewhat more complex than Serena had first expected. True, Cinderella remained very pliable - particularly in financial matters - provided certain moral lines remained uncrossed, but she was becoming more and more sure of herself each day, and Serena had never had Cinderella wrapped around her finger as she had once hoped to do. The humiliation was ongoing, but Serena had some suspicion that the accusations would stick most firmly amongst those who were inclined to dislike Cinderella already, and leave little impression on her supporters. As for destruction...that remained in doubt, and that was why Serena was here.

Here being standing outside Grace's room, in an ever elongating state of almost knocking on the door, waiting to approach her greatest rival.

Perhaps her only rival. Angelique and Marinette were worries - the former more than the latter - because they were earnest in their affection for the princess; Augustina...it was hard to work out exactly what Augustina was thinking. But Grace was after Serena's own heart, she wanted the same things that Serena did, and for that reason the time had come for them to work together. If they could.

Serena took another deep breath. These sorts of partnerships were always difficult. Trust was always difficult. It was hard to establish these kinds of alliances without giving the other girl the opportunity to betray you.

But there was little else for it; if they continued to fight separately they would just get in one another's way.

She knocked upon the door.

"Who is it?" Grace asked from the other side in a voice that would have sounded nearly as sweet as Cinderella's own, had Serena not been aware that it was almost wholly affected.

"It's Serena, I need to talk to you."

The door opened slowly, until there was enough of a crack between door and frame for Grace to peer out at her like an old porter welcoming unwanted visitors to the abandoned castle. "Serena, darling, what a pleasant surprise."

"Isn't it just, darling."

Grace giggled. "Whatever can I do for you?"

"I think that you and I need to talk," Serena said. "With our masks off."

Grace's eyes were large and innocent. "Masks? I'm afraid I've no idea what you're talking about."

Serena was silent for a moment. This was the testing point, the potential breaking point. If she said too much without Grace having revealed anything in return then she invited Grace to betray her. If she said too little then Grace would clam up, fearing that Serena meant to entice her into saying something that could be used against her, and any chance at cooperation between the two of them would be lost. She needed to find exactly the right words to gain Grace's trust without compromising herself too early.

"We are both...concerned, are we not?" Serena murmured. "Concerned...for the future."

"The future?" Grace said. "The future of what?"

"The future of the throne," Serena replied. "The future of the kingdom. I think that we share a concern especially with the future of Princess Cinderella."

"Well, yes, we're all worried about Princess Cinderella," Grace said. "What friend wouldn't be, after all she's been through?"

"Indeed," Serena said softly. "And we are...Cinderella's friends, aren't we, both of us? Not like Angelique or Marinette or even Augustina. We're...her real friends."

"I should think so. No one wants to take care of her the way that we do."

"Precisely. We want to see Armorique have the princess that it deserves."

"And for Prince Eugene to have the wife that he deserves."

Serena smiled. "I couldn't have put it better myself."

The door opened just a little. "Serena, one might almost think from your tone that you were being less than sincere."

"I'm shocked that you would say such a thing. One might think from your words that you intended a meaning less than wholly benevolent."

"But any someone who would think such a thing doesn't really know us at all, does he?" Grace asked, opening the door just a little moment.

Serena's smile was predatory. "No, they don't know us one bit."

Grace laughed. "You know, I almost think that we understand one another."

"I feel the same way."

"But it's so hard to be sure, isn't it?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Grace stared at Serena, even as Serena stared back.

"In friendship, as in love," Grace murmured. "Someone always has to be brave enough to take the first step."

Silence stretched out between them like a highway being laid from one end of the country to the other.

 _Now for it, I have no choice._ "Tell me, Grace, do you think a royal diadem would suit you?"

Grace stared at Serena for a moment, and then a moment more before a sigh of relief escaped her lips. "Oh, thank God, this constant pretence has been exhausting. Come in, Serena, come in."

Grace stepped back to admit Serena into the room, before shutting the door behind her.

Serena crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "I didn't expect your room to be so…Spartan." Serena's own bedroom was rather a riot of knick-knacks, ornamental bejewelled eggs and American native trinkets of gold or silver, ivory figurines, that sort of thing, you could barely move for them. But Grace…Grace's room was practically empty. There was a bed, with a black cat curled up asleep on top of it, a wardrobe and…that was it. Not even a chair to sit down on.

Grace chuckled. "You don't know me, Serena."

"I'm not sure that anyone really knows you, Grace. Not here, anyway."

Grace laughed again. "It's a pity that Theodora was so stupid, she could have made up the third member of our company."

"Would we want someone so stupid involved in our enterprise?"

Grace paused. "Perhaps not." She was silent for a moment longer. "Why now?"

"Hmm?"

"You could have come to me at any time but you didn't. So what's changed?"

"You could have come to me as well," Serena pointed out.

"I could," Grace said, walking around so that she stood in front of Serena. "But I didn't."

Serena cocked one eyebrow. Grace smiled.

Serena snorted. "We're running out of time."

"You're exaggerating."

"You can't see that she's growing more confident, more sure of herself."

"It's hard to look at the mess up there and call her confident and sure of herself."

"She's been knocked back," Serena conceded. "But she'll bounce back. She always does, doesn't she?"

"Even so," Grace said. "You're still exaggerating."

"Or you're underestimating her."

"Perhaps I just can't hear the ticking clock that seems to be echoing in your ear."

"Once she bears her first child then it won't matter a bit what happens to her. She could die in childbirth and it wouldn't make a blind bit of difference so long as the baby lived," Serena said. "Surely you can see that as well as I can."

"Of course," Grace said casually. "But Prince Eugene's cock isn't large enough to reach across the ocean and get her with the child, and when he comes back…" Grace smiled, and it was an ugly smile, a thing so ugly that Serena's spine was chilled at the sight of it, and she shivered. She didn't want to look at that smile that had suddenly disfigured Grace's face, she wanted to turn away from it, even to get out of the room, but at the same time that ugly look held her fast and tight like the hypnotic gaze of a serpent in the garden. "Nine months is a long time, all sorts of accidents can happen. What makes you think that any child of Cinderella's will ever draw breath?"

"Jesus, Grace, you're talking about-"

"Don't get all Catholic with me, Serena; it doesn't suit you," Grace said dismissively. She reached out, and ran her fingers against the wooden frame of her bed. "I suppose that the stories in the press are your doing?"

"Of course."

"And Lucien Gerard?"

"Hidden in the family townhouse," Serena said. "Cinderella's dog will never find him there."

"I suppose you had more in mind that just muckraking in the newspapers?"

"I was hoping for adultery."

"Cinderella's not really the type, is she?"

"I couldn't be sure of that until I tried," Serena said. "At least I've made an effort."

Grace giggled. "I almost drowned her once, before the wedding."

"What?"

"There are more powers earthly and infernal than you have dreamt of, Serena de Montcalm," Grace said, as though that was supposed to be some sort of an explanation for how she had – apparently – almost drowned Cinderella and gotten away with it.

 _I don't think even Cinderella is so naïve that she wouldn't notice if you shoved her under the water and tried to hold her there until she stopped breathing._

Serena's lip curled into a sneer of disdain. "Coming here was clearly a mistake. If you've nothing to offer but vague talk then-"

"I've got a big man, you might have noticed him," Grace said.

Serena nodded. That was true. "It seems that we had the same idea there. I take it your man knows to obey you when it comes down to it."

"Of course. And the same with your woman."

"Naturally," Serena said. In monarchies, she who had access to the monarch had power, but she who controlled access to the monarch had the most power of all. By using the crisis of Lucien's incursions as a pretence, they had both put agents into a position where they could control and restrict access to Cinderella, if need be by restraining Cinderella herself. "Assuming, just for one moment, that you actually have a plan, then how does it end?"

"Does that matter?" Grace asked. "Surely the important question is: how does our plan end?"

"Some questions don't need to be answered right away."

"Like the question of which us will be princess once Cinderella…isn't?" Grace chuckled.

"Precisely."

"But where will Cinderella be, once she has neither crown nor wedding ring?"

"That depends," Serena said.

"On?"

"On how we get there, obviously."

"True," Grace said. "So…since I've been letting you do most of the talking so far, why don't I go first?"

* * *

While Cinderella went down to her interview with Valis of the gazette, Angelique lingered up in Cinderella's room.

She was the only one there, assuming that there were no more pests spying on her from those peepholes that no one had quite managed to find. Not that Angelique doubted that they were there - no one would make up something so disgusting as spying on a person while they were naked unless they were actually doing it - but that wasn't the same thing as knowing where they were.

Hopefully no one was using them any more.

Angelique sat down on Cinderella's bed, as a kind of wan smile played across her face. It was funny, but things had seemed better, or at least more stable, when Cinderella was being pursued by an anonymous pest and Angelique was sleeping on the floor to help protect her. Now the creeper had been unmasked, and his predations put to an end...and it seemed as though the uncertainty had actually gotten worse as a result.

She didn't mean to discount what Cinderella had suffered...Angelique couldn't conceive of what it must have been like to be the victim, the target of that sort of thing, but she could recognise how distraught Cinderella had gotten about it by the end. But, well, what Cinderella hadn't known - and she hadn't known the worst of what Lucien Gerard was up to - couldn't hurt her, while this...this could destroy her if she wasn't careful.

Do nothing, they said. Do nothing! Do nothing while she was painted as some kind of painted tart, what kind of advice was that.

Angelique couldn't prove it, and she knew that there was no way she would ever convince Cinderella of this, but she was absolutely convinced, beyond any possibility that she could persuaded otherwise, that at least some of Cinderella's ladies in waiting were deliberately giving her bad advice and hoping that she would destroy herself with poor decisions. The alternative was that they were all complete idiots, and Angelique didn't believe that. Well, maybe Grace really was that stupid it was hard to tell, but Augustina wasn't, and Serena...Angelique only had to look into Serena's eyes to see the intelligence there, and the malice.

 _A brave sacrifice._ That was what Serena had called it. A sacrifice. She couldn't wait to get Angelique out the door.

No, Serena wasn't stupid. Serena knew exactly what she was doing.

And the worst part was that Angelique could see it working. It wasn't...she didn't mean to suggest that Cinderella was slavish in taking Serena's advice, or anybody's advice for that matter. She wasn't any kind of a doormat when it came to her views on right and wrong - if only Cinderella could show the same spine she displayed standing up to pressure to do something she considered immoral when it came to punishing the immoral behaviour of others; how much trouble could have been avoided if only she had thrown Lucien Gerard into a dark hole to rot? Why did she always recoil from any exercise of her authority over her household, pulling back from any flash of temper with an apology and an excuse as though she hoped to avoid a scolding from those she had just rebuked? - and she wasn't stupid either, but...she didn't half make some terrible decisions on her own, sometimes, with little or no prodding. The decisions that had led her to coddle and indulge and finance sweet, sensitive Lucien Gerard even as he practically slobbered over her being a case in point.

How could someone grow up experiencing the ugly side of life the way that Cinderella had and stay so naive?

 _Perhaps it's better that she is. If she were cynical, if life had hardened her, would she still be kind? If life had hardened her and left her wary, might it not also have robbed her of compassion? Without her naivety would she even be Cinderella?_

Angelique didn't know the answer to that, but she probably wouldn't be a princess if it weren't for her good heart, and if that came with just a touch of gullibility then...perhaps it wasn't so high a price to pay. Perhaps it was worth the trade.

It didn't make things easier right now, though. Not only did Angelique suspect that Serena was giving Cinderella deliberately bad advice, but she was also certain that someone - possibly Serena, maybe someone else - was passing information on to the _Courier_. How else to explain how much they always seemed to know about goings-on in the palace, details that only a few people would know about?

 _And she wants me gone, she's proved that. In her position I'd probably want me gone as well. I'd quite like to see her gone, come to that._

Angelique's eyes were drawn towards the mouse hole under Cinderella's dressing table. Cinderella had said no, but...well, what Cinderella didn't know wouldn't hurt her...except that she didn't seem to realise that Serena de Montcalm was a shark in a petticoat and that would hurt her given time.

 _She asked you not to do this. You told her that you wouldn't lie to her._

 _I know, and that's why I've held off until now even though I really wanted to do this, because I knew that Cinderella didn't like the idea. But now...there's no way that I'm going to let them win._

 _Serena might get rid of me, but she can't get rid of eyes she doesn't even know exist._

Angelique got down off the bed, cross the wooden floor as quickly as she could and knelt down halfway underneath the dressing table, bending her face towards the mouse hole.

"Jaq?" she hissed. "Hey, Jaq, are you there?"

It wasn't Jaq who emerged from out of the darkness of the mouse hole. Instead it was Gus, and Angelique's heart dipped just a little at the sight. It wasn't that she disliked him, he was perfectly nice and amiable, but...well, he wasn't the brightest mouse around and Angelique wasn't sure that he'd be able to understand what she'd need to tell him.

"How ya doin', Angelicky?"

"I, um, I suppose I'm alright, Gus," Angelique said. "How are you? Is, um, is Jaq around?"

"Mesa comin' Angelicky, mesa coming'," Jaq said, as he followed Gus out of the mousehole. "Is somethin' a matter?"

Angelique exhaled sharply. "Where should I begin?"

She told them everything, or almost everything. All of the salient details, anyway. Angelique didn't bother to explain all the details. She told them that they had identified the man who had been sending Cinderella those love letters, the first of which had arrived on the day that she, Angelique, had first met Jaq and Gus and all the rest of them. She even told them that it was someone that Cinderella had trusted, but she didn't think they needed to know exactly what he'd been doing when he got caught…she just told them that Cinderella had been too merciful to him by half.

"Yeah, Cinderelly real nice," Jaq said. "And wesa likin' that. Cinderelly very nice, Cinderelly most nicest girl of all…sometimes Cinderelly too nice."

"Too nice to cat-cat," Gus agreed.

"Cinderelly think that everybody have their good points," Jaq declared. "But some fellas just mean."

"I know what you mean," Angelique muttered. "Mean and slimy and they shouldn't get away with the things they do. But this fellow got away with it because…because Cinderella was too nice to him."

"Gus-Gus like to taken that guy and give him the busy-busy!" Gus yelled, brandishing his fists in the air.

Angelique couldn't help but smile a little. "You'll have to join the queue, little man, our Jean's already out looking for him to break something." She wasn't wholly convinced that tramping up and down the streets of the city looking for Lucien Gerard so that Jean could either challenge him to a duel or just beat the tar out of him in some back-alley somewhere – Jean didn't seem entirely sure himself what he intended to do, ever since he had first read the allegations he had seemed to swing between outraged chivalry and incensed brutishness with little in between – was the best use of his time at the moment, but Cinderella didn't need him right now, and well…she supposed it was better than having him sit around brooding about all of this.

"Anyway," she went on. "There are more important things to worry about right now than Lucien Gerard."

"More important than what he did to Cinderelly?" Jaq demanded.

"Lucien Gerard is an idiot, there's no way that he thought of turning the press on Cinderella like this all by himself," Angelique declared. "And even if he did…it isn't Lucien who's reporting everything that goes on around Cinderella to the newspaper. Someone close to her is plotting against her." She didn't tell who she thought it was, not because of any kind of generous impulse towards Serena, but because she didn't want the mice to miss something because they were focussing on the person that she had pointed them at more than any other. She didn't want Cinderella to pay the price if Angelique was wrong. "Someone close to Cinderella is betraying her…and that's where you come in."

Jaq's brow was disfigured by a frown. "Angelicky, Cinderelly say that-"

"I know what Cinderella said," Angelique replied. "I know that she put the axe down on it the last time, but…things are much worse now. This isn't just about finding who left a love note on her bed, this…this could ruin her. If the country thinks that she…people are starting to think that she's having affairs."

"Cinderelly never do something like that!" Jaq cried. "Cinderelly love princey!"

"I know that and you know that but most people only get their news from the paper and one of the papers is saying…a lot of bad stuff," Angelique said. "And they're getting it from someone in this tower, I'd stake my right hand on it. Cinderella might not like the idea of putting you to work but…but I don't see that there's much choice, especially…"

"Especially what, Angelicky?"

Angelique looked away for a moment. "They want to get rid of me, I can tell. If they get their chance…I might not always be here and then it really will be up to you. You're all she's got."

Jaq stood to attention. "Jaq-Jaq and the mice allus be here for Cinderelly."

"Okay, good, so you're in then?" Angelique asked.

Jaq nodded.

"Excellent," Angelique said. "Now, I'm going to give you some names and I need you to keep an eye on them for me. If you see or hear anything suspicious, then I need you tell me…and if I'm not here any more then tell Cinderella everything." _Better to ask forgiveness than permission._

"Howsa we know what's suspicious?" Gus asked.

"Just tell me everything that might possibly be important and I'll decide," Angelique said. "Okay? Now, do you recognise the names of the people around here? Like…who's Grace?"

"Gracie the goldilocks, ain't she?" Jaq asked.

Angelique nodded. "Yes, that's right. Now what about Duchamp?" She felt a little guilty about putting the ladies' maid under suspicion, but on the other hand…she certainly had access, and Cinderella was as unguarded with her as with everyone else.

"She the one that comes up ever-mornin' to help Cinderelly, right?"

"Yes, that's her," Angelique replied. "Now what about Marinette?" She felt very guilty about suspecting Marinette, but…as much as she liked her, she was Lucien's brother. She didn't seem to be on his side, she seemed as shocked as everyone else, she seemed to be on Cinderella's side…but Angelique didn't want to…she couldn't risk Cinderella's safety on the off-chance that Angelique had been taken in by Marinette the way that Cinderella was being taken in by Serena.

 _I'm sorry, Marinette. When I find out the real culprit, I'll apologise for doubting you._

"Marry-net," Jaq murmured. "Marry-net…she the real quiet one, brown hair?"

Angelique nodded.

"Yeah, I know her," Jaq said. "Just took a little while, that all."

"Okay," Angelique said. "Good. Now, here are the names I need you and your gang to keep an eye on for me…"

* * *

Jean returned an hour or so later, red-faced and scowling.

"Did you find him?" Angelique asked. _And what did you do if you did?_

Jean snorted. "No, I didn't. I must have wandered into half the pubs in the city looking-"

"That must have been fun."

Jean looked at her.

"Right, it's a serious matter, I know," Angelique said. "So he wasn't there?" That was surprising, according to their friends in the streets Lucien Gerard spent most of his time rolling from one alehouse to the next, when he wasn't going up to the palace to badger Cinderella, but of course he wasn't doing that now. So where was he?

"Nobody could tell me where he was."

"Emphasis on 'tell you' perhaps?"

Jean clasped his hands together and started fiddling with his fingers. He looked away in embarrassment.

Angelique sighed. "What did you do?"

"I was provoked, and sorely so!" Jean declared.

"I'm sure, but provoked into what?"

Jean was silent for a moment.

"Come on," Angelique said. "Out with it!"

"Someone in the Cock and Bull thought it would be funny to ask me…" Jean's face turned even more red, if that were possible. "If Her Highness' bottom were…were really as big as her dresses make it look."

"Oh, for the love of…even I know that's just the dress shape!" Angelique muttered.

"So I hit him," Jean said.

"With a chair, I suppose."

"No, just with my fist," Jean said. "It wasn't my fault that a table broke his fall. I used the chair on the person who asked about her-"

"I don't think I want to know," Angelique groaned. "This is getting out of hand."

"But what can we do about it?"

"I don't know," Angelique confessed. "I've got some hope of finding out who's responsible for spreading these stories-"

"We already know."

"Well, yes, him, but what I mean is, who is telling the world what goes on in Cinderella's inner circle. But…is there any way of putting the spilled milk back in the jug?"

Jean folded his arms across his chest. "Surely the answer is to convince people that it was never really milk to begin with."

Angelique considered the analogy, and found it actually made a degree of sense. After all, it wasn't as if Cinderella had actually had an affair. _Could it be done? Will people ever forget that these things were said about her?_

 _Perhaps…they won't ever forget what they were said, but if…what if they could remember that an innocent woman was once accused of these untrue things by those who wanted to bring her down. Isn't that a better story than the one they've got now? Isn't that a story worth remembering?_

 _If we can prove that story, surely they'll look at her with compassion, not with scorn._

 _Who are they, exactly?_

"Angelique?"

Angelique frowned. "Perhaps…but how do we do it?"

"You're the one with all the ideas, Angelique."

"That doesn't mean that you can't make an effort."

"I was hoping that I could convince the little rat to confess the truth. Not much chance if I can't even find him."

"Did you talk to Tom?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"He wouldn't help me."

Angelique's eyebrows rose. "He what?"

"Somebody's paying him and his gang to look the other way when it comes to Lucien Gerard and anyone from the _Courier_ ," Jean said. "They won't help us."

Angelique took a deep breath. _The nerve of it! The absolutely nerve to go down into my world and start…_ "Who? Who's paying them?"

"They wouldn't tell me that, either," Jean said. "Tommy said…he said to tell you that for what it's worth, he's sorry."

"Sorry?" Angelique yelled. "I've a good mind to go down there and show him sorry, the little…"

"It's good money, Angelique, you can't blame them too much."

"I know," Angelique murmured. "Let's…okay, if we can't find him then…oh, I don't know. Let's…let's just look to this party tonight; the victory celebration. If that goes off without any problems…"

 _Then it'll be a miracle, I'm afraid._

* * *

Frederica threw the newspaper into the flames, and watched the fires consume it.

"Oh, Cinderella," Frederica murmured. "Now you understand: betrayal by those you love is the sharpest knife that can be thrust into you."

Her brow furrowed. She had no doubt that these allegations were untrue. She considered herself to be a good judge of character, and though she had been mistaken in the past, she had never been so gravely mistaken as would have been the case if Cinderella had turned out to be a wanton of the sort that was so scurrilously implied.

 _Although it would be a fine irony if, all this time I have been agonising over my deception of her, Cinderella has been deceiving me._

A fine irony, to be sure, but Frederica did not consider it to be particularly likely. The allegations were untrue, so said her instincts for reading people, and she trusted those instincts were most people were concerned.

Which meant that Lucien Gerard was telling lies.

"Have we been able to find this rogue?" she asked. She was aware that Ensign Taurillion had been ineffectually searching for the fellow, and she knew that someone was paying the eyes of the streets to not look for the man, but she had some hope that her spies might have had better luck.

"Unfortunately not, Highness," Anton replied. "As yet, we have been unsuccessful in getting anyone into the de Montcalm household in order to ascertain if they are hiding him."

"It's a pity that we can't be sure, but as a supposition it as a great deal to recommend it," Frederica murmured. After all, Lucien Gerard had often been seen in the company of Anatole de Montcalm and – though this was not very widely known – the de Montcalm family owned a significant stake in the _Courier_ newspaper that was currently leading the charge in these allegations. It was very well hidden, and would be difficult to prove, but the link was there.

The de Montcalm family. Old nobility, old money - though a little less money than nobility nowadays - head of the family possessed the title Marquis of Cherbourg; the family could claim a descent from the royal house of Penthievre in the female line; not so closely related that their cousinage would have been an obstacle to a match between Prince Eugene and Lady Serena, not so distant that the de Montcalms would be without a claim to the throne if the house of Penthievre died out with Prince Eugene. Although there were other branches of descent with closer claims upon the throne, or descended in the male line, so it was unlikely that the de Montcalm claim would be accepted in such an unhappy eventuality.

But if, as Frederica believed, they were the prime movers between this attempt to destroy Cinderella - and that was their intent, Frederica had as little doubt as that as she did of Cinderella's innocence - then it appeared that they were more optimistic of their chances than Frederica was.

Unless they still hoped for a royal match? Frederica didn't find that particularly likely...but then her own father's plans were based upon the exact same notion that once Cinderella was out of the way Prince Eugene would marry a woman he had shown no interest in before, so Serena de Montcalm was hardly alone in entertaining fanciful notions.

If that was their plan, they were being more subtle in their attempts than Frederica...but then unlike Frederica they were probably trying to succeed. If they were behind this then, in all probability, they were also behind all the other negative stories that had been appearing in the _Courier_ recently. Frederica cursed her own blindness, she hadn't understood what the point of all the gossip they had been putting out was, but it was all building up to this: keep slandering Cinderella, keep emphasising her flaws, or just inventing flaws, keep spreading negative stories about her and then, when some really scandalous news appeared, people would be primed and ready to believe it.

But did they believe it? She had little doubt that the nobility would, but only because most of them already hated Cinderella, feared her or simply held her in disdain. But the people? What did the people say? Would they turn upon their princess, or keep faith with her? That was the real question. You could survive the disapproval of the court if you were popular with the crowd, you could survive the passive hostility of the crowd - although God help you if you enflamed that into active hostility - if the nobility was foursquare behind you. But if both turned against her...Cinderella would not survive that. Not politically, perhaps not even literally.

 _And I cannot do a thing about it. All I can do is watch._

Unless…there was always the possibility that…would another attempt upon Cinderella's life restore public sympathy for her? Unfortunately, if a sufficient mass of people had turned on her, if enough of them believed these allegations, then many of them would probably start cheering on the assassin.

The assassin…

Tying the de Montcalms to the Black Hand and the attacks on Cinderella might work, but only if the allegations could be proven false. If not…it all came back to the people. What would the people say?

* * *

Cinderella peeked out from the red velvet curtain, out onto the ballroom that lay on the other side. It didn't seem so very long ago that she had been here last, with Eugene and His Majesty and little Philippe, waiting to present Eugene's son to the lords and ladies of the realm. Now Eugene was on the other side of the world, His Majesty was lying listless in his sickbed, and while no harm had befallen Philippe, he was not here. He was with his grandmother; there was no need for him to be here.

Although it did mean that Cinderella was all alone.

Beyond the curtain, the ballroom was beginning to fill up: there were more ladies than gentlemen by some margin, and of those gentlemen there were fewer military uniforms than Cinderella had seen at previous balls and galas in the palace. Like Eugene, like Lucrecia's Etienne, like so many of the young gallants who looked so gay in their coats of blue and red and green had gone across the sea to risk their lives for the honour of Armorique; hence why tonight the ladies outnumbered the gentlemen, hence why almost all of the remaining gentlemen wore dress suits, and those who did wear uniforms were mostly older men, ageing generals and colonels not required for Eugene's expedition, or else officers of the Guards units that had remained behind to protect the palace. To protect Cinderella, and Philippe and His Majesty.

She didn't feel especially well protected at this moment, standing in near darkness with only a red velvet curtain separating her from the eyes of the court. Rather, Cinderella felt naked, vulnerable...and alone.

At this precise moment of course, she was physically alone. Alone in the dark, waiting for the moment to emerge. A moment that she didn't want to come. Whether she stayed here or emerged onto the dais she would be alone either way, but at least here no one was staring at her.

It would probably have hurt her ladies to hear Cinderella think of herself as being alone, as if they gave her no companionship, and there was no friendship between them, but that wasn't what Cinderella meant. They were her friends, and she loved them all, but there were some thing that they could not share with her: the burden of acting as regent over a country that was largely unknown to her, the weight of being a daughter to a sick man and of being a mother when she sometimes felt little more than a child herself, lost in a world so much bigger than she was; and they could not share the burden of having been tarred by scandal, of having her good intentions and what she had thought were simple acts of kindness twisted, corrupted and mixed with lies to make her out to be something she was not. They couldn't share the feeling of betrayal that she felt, and even worse...they couldn't share the feeling that Cinderella had that it was all her fault.

Not because she had been foolish, although many would have called her that, and if she loved Duchamp and Angelique for anything it was for the fact that neither of them had said 'I told you so to her yet'. No, this ugly feeling in Cinderella's breast was far worse than that, and yet more insidious: it was a feeling born of ten years in her stepmother's house, a feeling that whispered in her ear that if only she had been kinder to Lucien, more understanding, more accommodating then none of this would have happened. Cinderella knew how wrong that was, and she hated that even a tiny part of her felt that way...but a part of her did.

It would not be long now. She couldn't hide in the dark for much longer.

Cinderella plucked at the bodice of her gown. Since Eugene's going away to America she had begun losing weight, and neither gown nor gloves fit her so securely as they once had. Bracelets that had once clasped securely around her arm now dangled from her wrist and only her hands kept them from falling off. Since Lucien's…since Lucien had betrayed her she had barely eaten anything at all. She felt so sick in her stomach that it had driven all her appetite away.

She felt so tired. There were rare occasions when even lifting a pen to write to Eugene felt like an effort. She felt so tired.

 _Please come home, Eugene. Please come home and make everything alright again._

She couldn't wait any longer. She didn't want to go out there, but she had no other choice.

Delicately, Cinderella parted the red velvet curtains and stepped out onto the dais. The trumpets sounded, the orchestra gave a little flourish, and the master of ceremonies cried out in a voice that echoed across the ballroom.

"Her Royal Highness, Cinderella, Princess of Rennes!"

Eyes turned towards her. So many eyes watching as Cinderella descended the stairs. Waiting as she took the blush pink skirt with one hand and lifted it ever so slightly upwards, watching as she walked slowly, resting her other hand upon the white banister. Watching as she stumbled, nearly tripping over her own feet, and had to grab the banister to stop from falling down the rest of the stairs.

So many eyes, all staring at her. What were they thinking? What where they feeling? Was it her imagination that all these gazes seemed so hard, so cold and unfriendly? Or was it really so?

 _They never liked me before, why would they not hate me now?_

 _Please come home, Eugene. I don't know if I can do this without you._

Her diamond tiara felt so heavy upon her head, Cinderella could barely keep her chin up.

 _The night has only just begun and already I'm sick of it._

She stopped, a few steps from the bottom, still a little higher than the gathered assembly. They watched her. Cinderella felt like a mouse in a room filled with falcons.

Her throat felt dry and hoarse as she tried to get through her opening remarks.

"Thank you all so much for coming," she managed to say, though some of it probably sounded as though she was croaking. "We are here, as I'm sure you all know, to celebrate the victory of my husband, Prince Eugene, that he has won in America. God…God bless our soldiers and our sailors both and bring them safely home to us when all is done…and God bless Armorique."

"God bless Armorique!" the courtiers echoed.

Cinderella closed her eyes for a moment. _God bring them safely home. The sooner the better._

She made a slight gesture with one hand, and the orchestra began to play. The centre of the ballroom cleared, and one by one the couples began to dance.

No one approached Cinderella.

She had…she had no reason to expect that anyone would, but she couldn't help being just a little disappointed by it. Did they all think her, how had the newspaper put it, soiled beyond redemption by the allegations made against her? Did they all believe the stories without doubt? Did they all dislike her and despise her and disdain her?

 _Have I not one single friend in the entire court, outside of my ladies in waiting?_

 _Are there no gentlemen in Armorique left?_

That was a little unkind of her, to think so. But, as she watched the other couples dancing on the floor, as she stood on the edge of the ballroom alone, with space all around her as though she had some kind of disease, as she heard people whispering about her 'whore', 'adulteress', 'disgraceful'…could anyone really blame her for feeling unkind?

Jean might have danced with her, if he had been here. But that was why he wasn't here. Serena had advised Cinderella that if she were seen to be dancing with him then it would lend credence to the allegations in the press, and so she had asked Jean not to come tonight.

And it seemed there was no other man in all the court who wanted to take her hand. Either they all though her a slattern, or else cares had rendered her so hideous to look at that none dared approach.

Either way the result was the same: Cinderella was all alone.

 _How many hours of this?_

"It's very disappointing, isn't it?" Serena said, as she stole up on Cinderella without her noticing. "The way that gossip spreads so unfairly."

Cinderella glanced at Serena, a wan smile playing on her face. "I…yes, I suppose it is."

Serena took her by the arm. "You're being very brave, facing it like this. Showing that they can't hurt you."

Cinderella sighed. "I'm not nearly as brave as all that. I'll probably stay for a little while, and then I'll go. I'm not really wanted here."

"Go?" Serena's grip on Cinderella's arm grew slightly tighter. "You can't go, this is your party. You must stay. You must."

"But-"

"Be brave," Serena insisted. "It will be much worse if you let them see how much they're hurting you."

Cinderella was not looking forward to standing here for several hours, being ignored publicly and whispered about in private, but…perhaps Serena had a point. Perhaps this was something that she just had to do. Perhaps this was something that she had to endure.

 _Another price of being a princess._

"Will you stay with me?" she asked quietly. _I'm not sure if I can do this all by myself._

"If I can, of course," Serena said. "Although, if someone were to ask me to dance-"

"Must you go?" Cinderella said.

"You wouldn't want me to miss out on the fun, would you? I mean, you do want me to enjoy myself, don't you?"

"Of course, I do, I-"

"No, no you're right of course," Serena said. "I'll stay here, with you, to make you feel better."

Cinderella suddenly felt ashamed of herself. Listen to her, demanding things and putting herself first as though she were Anastasia or Drizella. How could she be so cruel to Serena, as to insist on making her miserable just so that she could share Cinderella's own torment? What kind of behaviour was that?

"Of course you must dance," Cinderella said. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me."

By this point the first dance was coming to an end…a somewhat ragged end, as a figure dressed in brilliant emerald green strode straight across the ballroom floor, throwing the dancers into disarray, moving as though the whole world were made of water and she were the only solid object in it.

It was Princess Frederica, and she was making straight for Cinderella.

As the music of the first waltz came to an end, eyes were turning towards Frederica, the author of the disruption on the ballroom floor, as she stalked through the crowds she barely seemed to notice as she approached Cinderella.

She curtsied, and then took Cinderella's slender hand in her grasp and raised it to her lips and kissed it.

"May I have this dance?"

Serena coughed, or perhaps choked. Cinderella's eyebrows rose. "I…I don't…I beg your pardon?"

Frederica's eyes sparkled mischievously as she grinned. "Dance with me."

"Huh?"

"I'm bored, and you look as though you could use a distraction," Frederica declared. "Come on, it'll be fun."

"I…" Cinderella hesitated. What would people say about something like that? "I'm not sure…would it be proper?"

"I don't know," Frederica said lightly. "And I don't really care either. You see, I'm the princess of Normandie, and I'm above such things as bourgeois propriety." Her smile widened. "And I'm not taking no for an answer."

Cinderella squawked in alarm as Frederica yanked her forward, pulling her into a hold and beginning to steer her across the floor, leaving Cinderella to scrambled to arrange herself in the proper position.

"You're leading," Cinderella observed.

"Don't sound so surprised, I've been leading for half my life," Frederica replied.

"But you haven't learned to wait for me to say yes before you start dancing?"

"If you're worried about what people say then tell them that I kidnapped you."

"Kidnapped?"

"I'm a descendant of Viking pirates, you know," Frederica said. "Kidnapping beautiful princesses is in my blood."

Cinderella snorted. It was strange, but…as unusual as this, as much as this was the first time she'd ever found herself in a situation like this before…it felt comfortable. More comfortable than she had felt standing at the edge of the dance floor. What did it matter if people were staring at her? They'd been staring at her anyway.

Obviously this was nothing like dancing with Eugene. She didn't feel complete at all. But she felt comfortable, and that was an improvement on how she'd been feeling lately.

It took her perhaps a moment longer than it should have done to realise that Frederica was not keeping her on the ballroom, but rather twirling her out of it, almost exactly as Eugene had done on that magical night. The cold air in the garden brushed against Cinderella's bare arms and made them shiver.

"Are you too cold?" Frederica asked solicitously, as she broke hold with Cinderella. "It ought to be possible to send for a shawl or something."

"I'll be fine," Cinderella murmured. She managed to make her tone somewhat playful as she said. "Although it's beginning to look as though you really are trying to kidnap me."

"Tell me that you didn't want to get out of there and I'll call you a liar."

Cinderella bowed her head, unable to dispute the assertion. "They'll think I'm a coward, won't they?"

"Hmm?"

"Serena said that I had to stay, in order to show it didn't hurt me," Cinderella explained. "Now that I've run away…they'll know."

Frederica took Cinderella by the hand. "They knew anyway, trust me."

Cinderella didn't look up. She could hear the trickling of the fountain close by, but she couldn't see it. "I thought…I thought everything would be so wonderful. I thought everything would be perfect."

"I know," Frederica whispered. "I thought the same thing once."

"It isn't true; you do know that, don't you. What…what they're saying?"

"I know that too," Frederica said softly. "That's why I'm here."

Cinderella shook her head. "What…what can I do? Is there anything that I can do?"

Frederica let go of Cinderella's hand, and turned around to rest on the wall of the fountain. "If I were in your position I know what I'd do."

"What?"

"Censor the press," Frederica said. "You'll find it's very difficult for journalists to slander your good name if everything they publish has to be cleared by you first, on pain of arrest."

Cinderella finally looked up. She had expected Frederica to look like she was joking, but her expression was one of deadly earnest. "Do you really mean that?"

"It's how we do things in Normandie, and in Anjou to the south for that matter," Frederica said. "It's Armorique that is unusual, and I can't see that it does you very much good."

Cinderella shook her head. "I don't think I could do that. I don't think that anyone would thank me if I did."

"Then at the very least you should arrest Lucien Gerard, if you can find him."

"I can't do that either."

"Why not?"

"Because his sister would be so upset," Cinderella said.

"If that's true then she's bad as her brother and doesn't deserve your consideration," Frederica replied.

Cinderella shook her head again. "Marinette…no, no I couldn't do that to her."

Frederica frowned. "Well, that limits your options. Have you considered that you might be too nice?"

"I don't think that that's really possible," Cinderella said. "After all, aren't we all born perfectly nice?"

"You believe that?"

"You don't?" Cinderella replied. "Don't you think it makes more sense to believe that we're born good, and become…flawed, I suppose, rather than that we're born bad and become…better?"

"Put like that…you might have a point," Frederica murmured. "That doesn't mean that there isn't such a thing as too nice for your own good."

"So there's nothing that I can do?"

"Specifically to scotch these allegations…I'm not sure. Let me think about it. In the meantime…"

"Yes?"

"Don't lose the love of the people," Frederica said. "Keep their support, and you'll be able to manage, if only just about." She reached out, and stroked Cinderella's cheek. "And eat something. You like you could pass out."

Cinderella smiled. "I'll try."

"Don't try, do," Frederica insisted. "You're all skin and bones. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you trust Serena de Montcalm?"

"Of course," Cinderella repeated. "Of course I do, why wouldn't I?"

"Why would you?"

"That…I don't understand."

"Trust should be earned, not freely given," Frederica said. "Especially in our positions."

"I don't agree," Cinderella murmured. "I…I couldn't live that way." _I wouldn't want to live that way._

Frederica smiled fondly. "Be careful, won't you? Please, take care. And remember to call on me if you need anything."

Cinderella nodded. "I remember. But…"

"But?"

"You don't have to go just yet, do you?"

Frederica laughed. "No, sweet girl." She put her arm round Cinderella's shoulder. "I can stay as long as you want me too."

As she pressed Cinderella close, Cinderella thought she heard her whisper, "I always wanted a little sister."

* * *

 _Author's Note: There won't be another update tomorrow for the simple reason that I've run out of new chapters and will have to write some more. Hopefully it won't take me too long.  
_

 _Morgaine: No, unfortunately Cinderella isn't pregnant, she's just under too much stress right now and it's starting to take it's toll on her._


	34. Wounded

Wounded

 _"Wait! Please, wait for me!"_

 _Cinderella raised her hand briefly to wave for attention, before she picked up the skirt of her lovely pink dress and began to rush down the stairs, her feet pitter-pattering upon the stone steps as she descended swiftly to the hallway._

 _A smile blossomed upon her face. She wasn't too late, she had made it in time, thanks to the generosity and hard work of her wonderful friends she would be going to the ball after all! Cinderella soared upon wings of joy as she twirled on her toes in the hallway, her hair and her skirt alike flying around her._

 _"Isn't it lovely? Do you like it? Do you think it will do?"_

 _Cinderella let her skirt fall from her hands, and her expression changed from pure glee to one of greater curiosity as she turned towards...towards the enormous crowd that was suddenly watching her._

Wait. What's going on? _It wasn't Anastasia and Drizella waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, nor her Stepmother, but a whole host of people stretching back into the distance, ladies in gorgeous and elaborate gowns, men in uniforms and frock coats, so many people elegantly dressed and sparklingly bejewelled and all staring at her with hatred and hostility in their eyes._

 _Cinderella blinked rapidly. "I...I don't understand."_

 _The gathered assembly was as silent as a graveyard. Not a man or woman said a single word as they began to move. They did not walk, or Cinderella did not seem them walk. Rather, like the most graceful of ladies who could hide all trace of the movement of their legs beneath their billowing skirts, like mist driven by the wind, the crowd before her glided forwards, and as they glided Cinderella's old home dissolved around her, walls evaporating as the silent crowd surrounded Cinderella like a pack of dogs._

 _"H-hello?" Cinderella murmured. "What...what's happening? Please, I don't understand."_

 _Silence, and stares so frosty they collectively made up a harsh winter._

 _"I'm sorry," Cinderella gasped. "Whatever I've done, I really am...I'm sorry, I-"_

 _Cinderella cried out in pain as beads were torn from around her neck._

 _"Oh, no!"_

 _From all around her, hands reached out, grasping at and tearing her dress, tearing the wings of her happiness to tattered feathers._

 _"Oh no, stop, please stop," Cinderella begged; but they did not stop, any of them, these faceless, sneering creatures who surrounded her. They ripped and they tore at her dress until there was no dress left, until her dress and her petticoat and her undergarments were all mere rags and Cinderella herself stood naked, surrounded by those who hated her._

 _And they kept on tearing. They tore at Cinderella's flesh, pulling her apart like a rag doll._

 _"No!" Cinderella screamed. "Let go of me! Stop it!"_

Cinderella awoke with a gasp of horror. Her heart was beating like a galloping horse, her chest heaved, she felt as though she could barely breathe.

It took her a moment to realise, to remember, where she was: in her own luxurious four-poster bed, with the velvet curtains drawn to enclose her and her silken sheets enfolding her; in her own room, in her own chambers, with Jean stood guard on the door and Michelle sleeping at the foot of her bed. She was safe here. The secret gateway that Lucien had used to so often enter the palace had been bricked up at Cinderella's command, and the front gate was closed at night and guarded always. She was safe here. There was nothing to be afraid of.

And yet at the same time there was everything to be afraid of.

The lords and ladies of the court may not have wanted to tear Cinderella to shreds physically, but there were times when they seemed to want to do it figuratively.

There were times when Cinderella felt they were succeeding.

 _Please come home soon, Eugene. I need you._

Cinderella might be safe from Lucien's peeping eyes, from his false friendship and hidden intentions...but no guards could protect her from the words he now wielded like poisoned daggers against her.

Cinderella gave a rattling cough, cringing at how vulgar and unladylike it sounded. What was she going to do about Lucien? What could she do? Nothing, according to her friends, or at least nothing that Cinderella was willing to do. And if they were all agreed, when they so seldom agreed, then they must have been right.

And yet it made Cinderella sick to her stomach. She had feeling thus more often lately, and that cough...was she ill? That was all she needed. She didn't dare give whatever bug she had caught to Philippe, still less to His Majesty; she would have to avoid them both, and hope that Philippe understood.

And as for Lucien and his lies? Cinderella supposed that she would have to endure it, as Serena had said; endure, and try to keep the people on her side, as Frederica advised.

Although she hadn't given Cinderella any advice as to how.

Cinderella gave another cough.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" Michele asked from on the other side of the curtains.

"Yes," Cinderella lied, because the other girl probably didn't want to hear that her new mistress was tired and lonely and frightened and angry and upset and having nightmares and generally feeling absolutely wretched. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you Michele."

"I'm glad to hear it, ma'am."

As she lay in her bed, Cinderella's face settled into a mask of misery.

 _What am I going to do?_

 _What am I going to do about everything?_

* * *

The ship that had brought Cinderella a letter from Eugene - that event which had brought her a joy which now seemed, in her present nigh-inescapable mire of misery, to be like something out of a dream - had preceded other vessels, three in all, bringing with them wounded men from Eugene's army. These men, and Cinderella could not but know that they would be the first of many who would be injured in this war, had now arrived in Brest and begun to filter into the city.

Some of them had nowhere to go. The officers, men of good and wealthy families, could return to their homes and to the bosoms of those same wealthy families, where their scars would see them accorded the respect due to heroes whose gallantry could no longer be doubted. But many of the ordinary soldiers and sailors were far less fortunate. Orphans, sons from families too large to care for them, runaways from unhappy homes, men who had taken the King's coin because they had little other choice...these people had no homes to return to, no families who would look after them, no fortunes to cushion the pain of their injuries. Wounded - sometimes grievously so - the future of these heroes looked bleak.

Cinderella found that intolerable. It was unconscionable that men who had made such sacrifices, who had literally given of their own bodies for this country, should be thrown upon the mercies of fate by the ingratitude of that same country. Cinderella's power to influence the hearts and minds of others was, as Serena pointed out to her, much reduced - and to Cinderella's ire at Lucien's behaviour was added an anger that by his petulance he had damaged, perhaps for good, her ability to use her position for the good of those who needed her help the most - but she had done everything that she could. She had opened up the palace to these wounded men, and two hundred convalescents now filled the sitting rooms and drawing rooms of the first two floors, which had been converted into a makeshift convalescence home for some two hundred veterans of the war who needed a roof over their heads and food to eat while they sought some new direction for their lives. When her duties allowed, Cinderella would have joined in nursing them, but the same fear of encroaching illness that kept her away from His Majesty (whose visits she had been forced to delegate to Marinette) and Philippe (Angelique looked in on him each night on her behalf) prevented her from either taking a personal role in their care and welfare, or even spending much time with any of these men who had fought alongside her husband and given of themselves so much for the country and its monarchy. That was a task that Cinderella was forced to delegate to Augustina, while Cinderella watched from the window as the convalescents enjoyed the peace and tranquillity of the gardens, or heard from Augustina how everyone was getting on.

She had donated a full third of her annual income, set aside for her by Eugene, to the establishment of a fund to care for such men, some of whom had lost legs or arms in this war, and to provide support for them. She had added a full fifth of Eugene's income, which he had given her charge of when he left for America, but which Cinderella had not hitherto touched; she had wanted to waste her husband's money, but Cinderella felt sure that he would approve of this purpose. And if he did not...well, he ought to, and she was sure that he would. She mentioned it in one of her letters to him, mostly confident that he would see things her way.

Augustina advised her to put her own name on this fund: the Cinderella Fund or something like that. Cinderella had wanted something more nondescript that focussed upon those receiving aid, not she who was merely providing some money, and Serena and Grace had both supported her, but Augustina had been insistent that she should use this act to promote herself in the public esteem, and Frederica, Angelique and even Marinette had agreed with her. Cinderella, well, it felt wrong to do such a thing, to use the suffering of others to promote herself, to turn a good deed into an opportunity to tell the world what a wonderful person she was. It cheapened charity, it soiled it in the same way that her reputation had been soiled by Lucien's lies, to reduce it to a way of making others admire you. Nevertheless, so many of her friends had been so insistent, that eventually they had compromised upon the Princess' Fund, which bore her name and yet at the same time did not.

Of course, this added meetings with all the people that she had to employ both to run the charity and to tend to those the fund was meant to help to Cinderella's schedule, but she didn't mind. What was her feelings of exhaustion compared to what so many other people were suffering?

Cinderella's influence might have been damaged, and the great and the good of court might have thought her an adulterer or worse, but she spared no efforts to make the country aware of the needs of her wounded heroes, whose numbers would only grow as the war went on. She spoke, both to the Gazette and in public, about the sacrifices that the soldiers and sailors of Armorique were making, and paid for pamphlets to be printed detailing some of the stories of the men who had come back from Louisiana less whole than they had left. She told their stories, and she appealed for donations to make the Princess' Fund as successful as it could be. The lack of large donations from great and noble families following her lead dispirited Cinderella at first - although it ought to be noted that du Bois family contributed a very sizeable sum, an action of which Augustina was very proud; the de Montcalms and the du Villeroi's both gave small amounts, as much as their temporarily cash-strapped families could afford – until it was reported to her that the fund was being deluged by small donations from the common people of Armorique. As she looked through the ledgers of the fund, and saw hundreds, maybe even thousands of small, even tiny amounts from people who were willing to give whatever they could spare to help those in need, Cinderella felt her spirits lifted above the gloom that had hung over them since Lucien's betrayal. Did this not prove, as she had said to Frederica, that people were good deep down, not the other way around.

The stench of her disgrace might cling even to her attempts at good works in the eyes of the nobility, but so long as the ordinary people could look past their loathing of her and their belief that she was an adulteress in order to see the need for something like the Princess' Fund and the good work that it was doing, and so long as they were willing to give for the sake of their fellow men…that was all that really mattered in the end.

As a matter of fact, it began to seem as though the people might not have such a low opinion of Cinderella as the ladies and gentlemen of the court, when it came to whether or not they believed that she had slept with Lucien and Jean and maybe even Frederica by now – Cinderella had stopped reading the _Courier_ as it seemed to have stopped containing anything like real news and become wholly devoted to the excoriation of her character; Eugene might have called the _Gazette_ a rag but at least it tried to report facts other than what Lucien Gerard had to say about her so-called licentious conduct – and generally the low esteem in which Cinderella was undoubtedly held by the court did not appear to be matched by a similar disdain in the eyes of the commons. When she spoke about the need to support the veterans of the war, her speeches were always well attended, and while that was undoubtedly to do with the subject there was also a notable dearth of the snide, sly glances, back-handed sniggering, hushed whispers and general undercurrent of gossip that marked her interactions with the so-called good society of the court.

As an example, Cinderella had been invited to lunch by Madame Clairval, a society matron with whom Cinderella had interacted very little, and she had gone out of politeness and because all her ladies – with the exception of Angelique, who had no opinion – were unanimous in it being a good idea to show her face in public amidst the genteel classes.

It had proved to be a grave mistake, as Cinderella had realised nearly as soon as she arrived – as soon as she started mingling with the other guests before the meal was served and had discovered that amongst the other guests was none other than Theodora de la Tour.

"Cindy!" Theodora cried, with a smarmy joviality that was entirely false, as she swept through the crowd with her arms spread wide, as though she meant to give Cinderella a hug. "It's been entirely too long, hasn't it? It's so wonderful to see you again."

Cinderella took a step backwards, away from Theodora and her threatened embrace. "Mademoiselle de la Tour."

Theodora's smile was triumphant. "You look surprised to see me, Cindy. Or is that pastiness just the way your face looks now?"

Cinderella attempted to maintain a dignified composure. "I am surprised," she murmured.

Theodora chuckled. "It turns out a whore's disapproval doesn't count for very much these days, who knew? Have you gotten yourself checked for venereal diseases, because you never know where a man like Lucien Gerard has been? Or perhaps Prince Eugene is the one who should be worried about-"

"Don't!" Cinderella snapped. "Don't say one more word-"

"Or what?" Theodora demanded. She leaned down, so close that her nose was almost touching Cinderella's face. "You're finished, Cindy. Done. Now everyone can see you for what you really are, and all of this and this and this…" she reached out, and in turn she shook the crystal butterfly in Cinderella's hair, the pearls hanging around her neck, and the ruffled collar of her white dress. "They don't mean anything any more. The truth is out, and you can't hide any more."

"How can the truth be out when you're all believing a lie?" Cinderella asked softly.

Theodora's smile was as ugly as a toad. "Because the truth is whatever we make of it. And the truth we make is that you're a whore, and you don't deserve one bit of what you tricked out of His Highness."

Throughout all of this nobody else said anything. Nobody came to her defence. Nobody interrupted Theodora, or told her she was being very rude. They either watched, or they turned their backs and pretended that it wasn't happening.

"Goodbye, Theodora," Cinderella said, turning away and making for the door. "I hope you have a good time, but I'm afraid I've lost my appetite."

"How about all those soldiers in the palace, Cindy?" Theodora demanded as she left. "How many of them are still whole enough to warm your bed?"

Cinderella didn't answer, but she cried in the carriage back to the palace.

By contrast, the crowds who came to hear her speak never used her in such a way. They listened to her speak in polite silence, and when she was done they applauded, and even cheered for her. Perhaps they were just being courteous, but then even that was to appreciated, because so few people seemed to be offering Cinderella any courtesy these days.

Most importantly…they never mentioned it. Actually, no, it was wrong to say never. One or two of the older women who came to listen to her expressed their sympathies, and it was always women who did so, calling upon some shared tie that bound their sex together as they made clear that they believed her side of the story; but even they quickly passed over it, while men brought it up not at all, and all who stopped to speak to her after her speech spent most of their brief conversation with Cinderella talking about the cause, or at most about some other issue related to the condition of the people. Put simply, they didn't seem to find the issue of her supposedly promiscuous love life very interesting or important. If only everyone felt the same way.

All of which meant that when the Privy Council asked Cinderella to present a bill before the Assembly that would squeeze the amount of Outdoor Relief available to the poor, Cinderella was not in the best mood to receive such a proposal.

She pushed the sheaf of papers away from her, down the council table. "I am sorry, sirs; but I cannot put my name to this."

Sieur Robert leaned forwards, resting his hands upon the wooden surface of the table. "Highness…the sole right of the sovereign – or their regent – to present draft laws is, in almost all respects, a constitutional formality. Your involvement in the process requires no moral judgement on your part."

 _Shut up, you silly girl, and sign your name, is that what you mean, Sieur Robert?_ She could have sworn that he had treated with more deference previously. Was this another symptom of her tattered reputation? Did he, too, believe her to be an adulteress? A whore? Did he think that for reason he no longer had to give any weight or consideration to her opinions, that he could make her his puppet?

If he believed that, if any of them believed that, then they were all mistaken. She might not be the best educated girl in the country, she might not the cleverest…but she had read through every line of the Charter of 1745 and she had read it more than once until she understood every line and she understood the power that she now wielded. And she would not be bullied into using that power for an end that she did not agree with.

"But it is still my name, Sieur Robert," she murmured. "I have to take good care of it."

Sieur Robert looked down at his hands for a moment. "Your highness has some objections to the proposed law?"

"I have objections to the very idea behind it," Cinderella said. "Now, of all times, when we are starting to see wounded heroes of this country coming back home and finding themselves reliant upon charity, do you all choose to show me a law aimed a reducing the charity of the country?"

"Not reduced, highness, redirected for greater efficiency," said the nasal-voiced Minister of Police. "Outdoor Relief encourages feckless idleness, enables the shiftless poor to obtain money for nothing, removes the incentive and the desire to do honest work for an honest wage. In the Workhouse-"

"In the Workhouse they are underfed, abused, and forced to do soul-destroying work," Cinderella interrupted him.

"Your highness maligns-"

"I know all about the workhouses, thank you," Cinderella declared. "If I had my way I would abolish them, not expand them." Angelique had told Cinderella everything that she needed to know about the workhouse and that had been enough to make Cinderella shudder.

"Why," began one minister with a voice full of gravel and a face from which two jowls hung heavy. "Should the wealthy and hardworking be forced to pay to subsidise the pleasures of the indolent?"

"Do they not pay for the workhouse?" Cinderella asked.

"It is to be hoped," Sieur Robert said. "That the workhouses will eventually profit enough from the labour of those living there that they will pay for themselves."

"But until then?"

"Until then, yes, they are supported."

"Then why not support the more charitable approach."

"The charitable approach is best left for charities," Sieur Robert replied. "I urge your highness not to confuse your role as patron of a charitable fund with your position as regent of this nation."

"As regent of this nation shouldn't I think even more carefully about the wellbeing of its people?"

"That depends on which people you're thinking of," Sieur Robert murmured.

"The ones she's sleeping with, probably," someone said, in a half-whisper that nevertheless carried to Cinderella's ears.

Cinderella froze for a moment. Sieur Robert looked away in embarrassment. There was silence from the rest of the council.

Cinderella swept up and down the table with her gaze. How…how dare they? It was one thing for people like Theodora to make fun of her, to humiliate her, to believe or pretend to believe all sorts of rumours and stories and to use them against her…but some supposedly responsible Ministers of the Crown to say that for…for what reason? Did they think that she would bend to their will if they mocked her enough? Did they think that if they reminded her of what the gossips said it would make more willing to compromise with a notion she detested.

To be perfectly honest she found the idea of being criticised for something she hadn't done, for being made out to be immoral by people trying to persuade her to starve the poor and the needy to be a little bit rich.

She pushed her chair back from the table. "I am sorry for wasting your time, gentlemen, but I cannot oblige you. Good day to you all."

Sieur Robert frowned. "Your highness?"

Cinderella got to her feet, feeling a little unsteady and light-headed as she did so. "This meeting is over, thank you all for coming. Good day, gentlemen."

Sieur Robert rose. "You are dismissing us?"

"From this room, for now," Cinderella said softly. _Though a part of me wants to start dismissing you from your offices._

"Your highness, there are items on the agenda that have yet to be-"

"I am sure that they will keep," Cinderella replied. "If not, then you can discuss them with me when we meet tomorrow. Until then."

They hesitated, and for a moment Cinderella was afraid that they would refuse to go and she would have to call the guards to throw them out, but one by one they rose from their seats and murmured some profession of their loyalty – if only they had professed and demonstrated their respect then Cinderella would not have been forced to act this way – and bowed their heads before making their exits from the room.

Only Sieur Robert remained.

"Is something wrong, Sieur?"

"That was…a mistake, your highness."

"If you can give me a good reason why I should have to put up with sort of thing then I would love to hear it."

Sieur Robert cringed. "It is the price of bathing in the waters of politics. To be frank and explicit-"

"I think that you say that whenever you know I won't like what you're about to say."

Sieur Robert snorted. "If your highness wished to be universally beloved then you should have stuck to inoffensive behaviour."

"I haven't done-"

"Forgive me, your highness, I didn't mean to refer to your alleged indecencies," Sieur Robert said, in a tone that left it obscure whether or not he thought that she was maligned by false rumour or a licentious little tart. "I meant…playing politics creates enemies, that is why politics is always adversarial. If you didn't want to make enemies then you shouldn't have gotten involved."

"You asked me to assume the regency, as I recall."

"Because it was necessary that someone should, but-"

"But?" Cinderella asked. "But you didn't think I would have any thoughts or opinions? Or you didn't think that I would act upon them?"

Sieur Robert was silent for a moment. "It appears that I underestimated you, princess. In many respects. You are correct, if you do not want to put the proposal to the assembly then that is that. There is nothing I can do about it. But dismissing the meeting was still a mistake."

"Because I brought it on myself?" Cinderella said. "Is that what you were trying to tell me?"

"Its human nature to insult people that we don't like," Sieur Robert said apologetically.

"And not to like it," Cinderella replied, in a voice that was chilly and brittle in equal measure. "I will see you tomorrow, Sieur Robert, at which…I will have a proposal to put to you. Until then, goodbye."

"Farewell, your highness."

When he was gone, and the door closed behind him, Cinderella rested her hands upon the table and leaned heavily upon it. She coughed. Her throat felt hoarse, even though she hadn't done much talking. When she swallowed, she was attacked by a brackish, harsh sensation.

She could only hope that it passed soon, it wasn't as though she could rest until this bug had passed. She had too much work to do.

So much work.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to dismiss the meeting, but she would do it again if she had to.

She might not be able to stop people saying things like that about her, but that didn't mean she had to listen to it.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I brought back Theodora for a brief scene as a sign of what Cinderella's tarnished reputation, and consequently diminished authority, mean in practice. Whereas previously the fact that she was in such bad odour with the princess and the royal family would keep Theodora hiding in obscurity, now that Cinderella's soft power is not what it once was she feels free to show her face again._

 _Plus…I kind of miss having her around._

 _There is a bit of a retcon in this chapter, which is bad writing but done for a good cause. Previously I'd had a very British political system in my mind because I studied more British political history than anything else and I retain an interest in it. However, that system doesn't leave the monarch (or their regent) with very hard power, and while soft power can be interesting in its own right, there's something to be said for your main character being able to properly get things done. Hence the switch to a more French Charter of 1814 system in which Cinderella is a really essential part of the political system with real power in her hands. As most of the point of sending Eugene away and making the King ill was to show Cinderella as a leading political actor, you'll see her making use of this in future chapters._


	35. A Sense of Duty

A Sense of Duty

Marinette's brow was disfigured by a slight frown as she finished reading to His Majesty the King as he lay in his bed, sickly and unresponsive.

Princess Cinderella thought that he could hear her perfectly well, but could he? It was better to think he did, perhaps.

She closed the book. "That…that's all for now, Your Majesty. I…I will come and read to you again tomorrow, since Her Highness cannot. Once again, as always, she sends her apologies. It…it's for your own good."

As Marinette got up, lifting up her green skirt with one hand and clutching the book close in the other, the door opened. It was Serena's brother Anatole, dressed in a red velvet jacket with the royal crest upon his breast, the livery of a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber. He saw her, and smiled down at her.

"Mademoiselle Gerard," he said courteously. "How is he?"

"His Majesty is little different than he was, I'm afraid," Marinette murmured. "Excuse me, my lord."

"You needn't rush out," Anatole said. "Her Highness is busy with the Privy Council, and does not require you. And if she does require companionship, my sister and the others can provide it."

"If Her Highness requires my attendance then I should go to her."

"I've already said-"

"And if she does not then, I am sure that you have duties of your own that do not require me underfoot," Marinette declared stiffly. She walked to the doorway, but Lord Anatole made no move to clear the way for her. "Excuse me please."

"Why?" Anatole asked. "Are you in such a hurry to get away from me? I'm afraid that's how it appears."

"Is there any reason why I should stay?" Marinette asked quietly.

"Well see, now you're being rude," Anatole declared. "Though I can't for the life of me work out why. I've done nothing to offend you, I was a friend of your-"

"I know," Marinette said quickly.

Anatole's eyes gleamed. "I see. So that's what this is all about? Lucien?"

"Yes," Marinette said in a voice that was half a hiss. "It's about Lucien."

"I still don't really understand," Anatole said. "I had nothing to do with his outrageous behaviour."

"But you didn't stop it either?"

"Am I my brother's keeper?" Anatole asked theatrically. "And even if I were he isn't my brother…he's yours, if you remember."

"You saw him more often than I did."

"You saw him often enough," Anatole replied. "Hold the mirror up to your own face and ask yourself: how, in all the times that he danced attendance on her highness, fawned over her, took from her, praised her…in all those times how come you didn't see what he really was?"

"How could I?"

"Exactly," Anatole said. "How could I?"

"You encouraged him to keep gambling," Marinette pointed. "Even after he promised Cinderella that he wouldn't."

"And for that reason it's my fault that he did all the things that he did."

"No, of course not," Marinette said. "I'm not making excuses for my brother, what he did was unforgivable. But you didn't help him one bit, and you encouraged…he was a sweet boy, and sensitive, and kind. But when he became your friend he…what did you do to him to make him become a monster?"

Anatole laughed. He let out a deep throated belly laugh that made His Majesty in the bed behind snuffle and snort at being disturbed in such a way. He leaned forwards into Marinette's face, making her back away from him. "Your sweet and sensitive brother was a liar and a thief and the most selfish person I've ever met. He used you, just he like he used everyone he knew in his entire life…until he finally met someone that he cared about and it was such a novel sensation for him that he didn't know what to do with it. That's what your brother Lucien was, and he didn't need my help to be that way."

Marinette quivered. "If…if he was such a terrible person, then why did you like him?"

Anatole smirked. "Why, because he was funny." He stepped out of the way of the door. "Now you'd best run along. Cinderella might want you."

* * *

"Is Stepmother still not well enough to come and visit me?" Philippe asked.

"No," Angelique said, with just a hint of a sigh in her voice. _Just like she wasn't well enough yesterday either._ "It…look, it's not because she suddenly doesn't like you or anything. She just doesn't want you to get ill; something that I'm sure your grandmother appreciates a lot." She glanced upwards to where the boy's grandmother watched her, as though she were afraid Angelique were about to do something improper. "But she still cares about you. That's why I'm here, to see that you're alright so I can tell her so."

"But I miss her," Philippe declared.

"I'm sure you do," Angelique replied. "But do you want to be stuck up in bed all day, leaking out your nose and with a little monster in your throat making it hurt whenever you drink something which, by the way, your grandmother will make you do a lot of?"

Philippe shook his head.

"Then avoid sick people," Angelique said. "Which includes your stepmother right now, unfortunately."

"I see," Philippe muttered, though the fact that he was muttering suggested that he wasn't all that happy about it. "Is Stepmother going to get better soon?"

"I'm sure she will," Angelique replied. That was…Angelique didn't want to think of it as a lie, but the fact was that in order to truthfully say that Cinderella would get better soon Angelique had the feeling she might have to stretch the definition of 'soon' just a little bit much. She wasn't a doctor, but she got the impression that if you worked yourself to the bone and made yourself ill in consequence – and that was exactly what Cinderella had done; if exhaustion wasn't at the bottom of this then Angelique would eat both her shoes – then you probably weren't going to get better unless you stopped working yourself to the bone and rested yourself for a bit. The very idea seemed close to anathema for the Princess Regent right now.

 _Everyone wants something from her but that doesn't mean that she has to give it to them._

Still, that wasn't the sort of thing that a young boy who seemed to genuinely love his stepmother would want to hear, and so Angelique reached out and tousled his dark hair with one hand. "Don't worry. Her highness has a whole palace full of people whose job it is to take care of her, and so she'll be fine. There's no need to worry about her. Just take care of yourself, because your stepmother has enough to worry about."

Philippe nodded. "I understand."

"Good lad," Angelique said. She grinned. "Do you want to see a magic trick?"

Philippe's eyes widened. "You can do magic?"

"Of course I can do magic, I'm amazing that way," Angelique said lightly. _I mean, I can talk to animals. That's almost magic, isn't it?_ She produced a coin, a silver shilling, and twiddled it between her fingers. "You see this?"

"Yes."

"I want you to take this coin," she said, as she placed it in his open palm. "And put it somewhere safe. Go on, do it now."

Philippe slipped the silver piece into one of the pockets in his miniature suit.

"Very good," Angelique said. "Now, check that it's still there."

Philippe patted his pocket. "It's there."

"Excellent," Angelique said. She let her fingers pitter-patter up and down his sides as though she was about to start tickling him. "Abra-cadabra, is the coin still there?"

Philippe put his hand into his pocket. His eyes widened with shock. "It's gone!"

Angelique gasped with mock surprise. "Where is it? Where did it go? How did…wait…wait…what's that?"

"What's what?" Philippe demanded.

"There's something behind your…" Angelique pulled out a silver coin from behind Philippe's ear. "Ear! Here it is!"

Philippe gasped. "That's amazing! How did you do it?"

"A magician never gives away her secrets," Angelique said. _And if I told you that I picked your pocket I'm not sure your grandmother would approve._ She tousled his hair again. "Sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite."

Angelique got up off her knees as the boy's grandmother chivvied him away to start getting ready. She left them too it, walking briskly towards Cinderella's tower. It wasn't so late that the princess would be getting ready for bed – especially given her tendency to late nights – but she would probably be in her rooms, working on something or other. She seemed to working very late at the moment.

 _I know that she's the regent, but does she have to push herself so hard? It won't do anyone any good if she goes the way of the King. Who will be regent then?_

"Angelicky! Angelicky!"

Angelique was distracted out of her thoughts by the high-pitched, squeaky voices urgently demanding her attention, mangling her name in a way that signified only one group of individuals. She looked down, and sure enough there were Jaq and Suzy, rushing out of the mouse hole in the corridor wall towards her.

"Angelicky! Quickly Angelicky, gotta come quick, gotta hurry!"

"Jaq, what are you doing here?" Angelique hissed, looking both ways down the corridor. In the evening gloom she couldn't see anyone, but that didn't mean that that would be the case for long. "What are you doing, what if somebody-"

"Gotta hurry, Angelicky, Cinderelly need your help!" Suzy cried. "Cinderelly fell and not getta up again."

"Cinderella…Cinderella fell?" Angelique demanded, as her stomach began to freeze up with apprehension. "What do you…fell where?"

"She jussa fell, on the floor, on the floor," Jaq yelled, jumping up and down in his impatience. "Gotta go, gotta go!"

"Cinderelly just suddenly uhhh…" Suzy mimed swooning onto the ground with a heavy sigh. "Not get up, not get up!"

"She collapsed?" Angelique cried. _Oh God, oh God, oh God. Please be alright. Please be alright._ "Sweet heavens above…get back to her, and you all stay with her until I arrive, alright?" She didn't bother to wait for their response, but trusted that they understood as she started to run towards the tower. Her heavy footfalls echoed on the wooden floor.

* * *

Cinderella's face was too pale and her eyes were too bright.

The princess' beautiful eyes had always shone, that was one of the reasons they were so beautiful, but now they gleamed too brightly by far, not like sapphires but like blue stars, and set in that face that was almost pasty in complexion, ghostly in pallor…it was hard to reconcile the woman sitting before her with the beauty who had won prince and crown alike with her loveliness.

She had become so thin, her arms now looked so weak, and there were lumps beginning to rise on the sides of her neck. It was…it was heartbreaking, to see someone so good suffering so.

It was morning, the day after Angelique – summoned by the mice, although only Angelique herself and Cinderella knew that little detail – had found Cinderella passed out on the floor of her bedroom. She had woken up, or whatever the right way of putting it was, but she had slept fitfully afterwards. Angelique had been able to hear her coughing down on the floor below, and the princess had started vomiting as well.

She couldn't imagine what this was like for her. Not the illness, Angelique had been ill more than once herself, and she remembered how terrible it could be quite vividly. No, what she couldn't imagine was the embarrassment that Cinderella had to be feeling right now. Not because there was anything shameful in being taken ill, not because there was anything for her to be ashamed of, but because…Cinderella cared how she appeared to others. Not just her looks, but what impression she gave. That was why she'd temporarily put aside her favourite dresses, because she'd wanted to change the impression before she gave up on the idea that that was possible. Cinderella liked and wanted to be perceived in a certain way: beautiful, yes, but graceful too, elegant, demure, _ladylike_. A lot of it was who she was, in Angelique's opinion anyway, but it was also what she pretended to be…and the pretence was having holes torn in it in front of most of the people she cared about.

It was a good thing that her husband wasn't around to see it.

Of course if he had been here Cinderella wouldn't have had to work herself so hard and get sick in the first place.

 _Those American rebels have a lot to answer for._

The royal physician had arrived on the very night of Cinderella's collapse – which he called fainting – and had pronounced himself unable to determine exactly what was wrong with her, although his best guess was pneumonia, which was quite bad enough. He prescribed bed rest and liquids and hoped that the princess would get better soon on her own.

Angelique didn't have terrifically high hopes that Cinderella would do as she was told as far as 'rest' was concerned.

Cinderella sat on one of her settees in her sitting room, her blue nightgown concealed behind a fluffy and warm-looking pink dressing gown, cradling a mug of something steamingly hot in her thin hands. The mug was wobbling a little in her grasp, though not so badly as to spill anything.

She took a sip, and then spoke in a voice that was hoarse and tired-sounding. "Marinette, would you be a dear and please ring for Duchamp for me, and ask her to get the water ready for my bath?"

"A bath?" Angelique said. "What do you need a bath for, you're supposed to be staying in bed."

"I can't stay in bed, I've got too much to do," Cinderella replied. "A couple of generals are coming to discuss reinforcements for Eugene's army, and then I have to see Sieur Robert to talk about judicial appointments and present my bill for-" she broke down in a fit of coughs, and only Augustina snatching the mug out of her hands presented her drink from going everywhere as Cinderella doubled over to cough into her fist.

"I'm sure they'll all be able to wait, if you explain," Angelique said.

"I can't put them off," Cinderella replied. "I'm-"

"If you say I'm fine then so help me-"

"I'm needed, Angelique, I was about to say needed," Cinderella said, and for all that her voice sounded off her tone of gentle reproof carried through regardless.

"Oh," Angelique muttered. "Well, alright, but you can't be needed so badly that you have to wear yourself out like this. I mean, there must be someone else, or some other way."

"I don't think there is," Cinderella murmured, and her voice was so quiet that Angelique had to strain her ears to hear her. "I'm the only person who can do this."

"That doesn't mean you have to," Angelique replied.

"Mind your tongue," Serena said softly. "You're verging upon impertinence."

"Oh, well pardon me for showing some concern," Angelique snapped.

Serena gasped. "I am as concerned as anybody else for Cinderella's wellbeing, but unlike you I can both remember my place and respect the wishes of my friend."

 _Your friend? Your friend, is it? Your friend my eye!_ Angelique almost hoped that Jaq found something on Serena, just so that she could wipe that smug look off her face; it was only the pain that Cinderella would feel from yet another betrayal from someone she considered a friend that made Angelique's desire less than full-throated. "Friendship doesn't mean that you shouldn't point out if you think a friend is making a mistake. I'd say the exact opposite."

"But Cinderella isn't making a mistake," Grace declared, as she leaned down and rested her arms upon the settee where Cinderella sat. "She's being very noble, and we should all admire her for that instead of carping on at her." Grace's arms were laden down with Cinderella's diamond bracelets, the largest and chunkiest of them glistening upon Grace's skin, stacking up her arm from her wrists. One of Cinderella's diamond rings sat on the ring finger of her right hand, and some of Cinderella's diamond necklaces graced her neck, and Cinderella's big diamond earrings - the ones that Lucien had stolen, but Jean had gotten back - sat on her ears.

The fact that she had asked permission first was about the only saving grace of the obscene display. Cinderella had agreed - of course she had, it took too much to make her put her foot down on Grace and Serena - saying that they would look much better upon Grace than on her at the moment, which was possibly true but also not really the point in Angelique's opinion. Certainly Grace didn't need to 'borrow' quite so much. Cinderella had made the invitation an open one, and as a result Serena had joined in the pillaging, and now wore one of Cinderella's tiaras nestled amongst her hair, and a couple of pearl necklaces dangling around her throat. To Angelique's mind - but unfortunately not to Cinderella's - this was enough to undercut all of their claims of friendship.

You didn't respond to a friend being ill, possibly seriously so, by sticking your fingers into their cherished possessions.

 _If only Cinderella weren't so kind._

 _If she were not so kind she would be Cinderella._

"You're flattering me, Grace," Cinderella said self-deprecatingly. "I really have to thank you for this...is it a tea? It's not quite like anything I've ever tasted before?"

"We prefer to call it a brew," Grace said. "It's an old family recipe, one that does wonders if you're feeling under the weather. Just say the word and I can whip up a cup for you whenever you feel like it."

"If you were king, then your dedication to your duty might be regarded as commendable," Augustina said, in the tone of one who is choosing her words with great care. "But, I hope you won't take offence at me saying this, you're only a caretaker, and caretakers can perhaps be forgiven for working at a slower pace. Some decisions are urgent, yes, but if a lot of this work were to be left unresolved for His Majesty when he awakes, or His Highness when he returns, no one would think ill of you for it."

Cinderella shook her head. "I may only be a caretaker, but that doesn't mean that there aren't things that I'm determined to accomplish."

Augustina's eyes narrowed. "Some might say that this determination of yours reflects a desire to effect large-scale policy changes while there is no one to stop you."

Cinderella managed to smile. "Perhaps some might say that, Augustina, but if this awful business with Lucien has taught me anything, it's not to care too much what 'they' say."

"No one wants to see you get worse," Marinette said.

"I know," Cinderella replied. She sounded so tired. "I know that you all have my best interests at heart. But I...this is going to sound very pretentious, but I have the best interests of the people at heart. They need my help, and I can't abandon them."

Angelique snorted. "Can I speak to you in private for a moment?"

Cinderella frowned for the briefest of moments, before she nodded her head. "Thank you so much for everything you've done for me, ladies, but if you could excuse me. You needn't wait, I'll get dressed once Angelique and I are finished."

Angelique restrained herself from rolling her eyes. _Not if I have anything to say about it._

Marinette gave her a sympathetic smile as she left, but none of the other ladies even looked at her at all. One by one, they filed out of the princess' chambers, until there was only Cinderella, Angelique...and Michele, the new maid, standing silently in the corner.

"I said in private," Angelique remarked pointedly.

Michele said nothing. She didn't even acknowledge Angelique's presence, let alone her remark.

Cinderella coughed, not a demure attention-getting cough or a kind of ahem but a rattling cough from off her chest. "Please wait outside, Michele."

Michele curtsied. "As you wish, ma'am."

She closed the bedroom door behind her as she left.

Cinderella sighed as she looked at Angelique. "I hope you're not going to harangue me. Whether I deserve it or not...I'm afraid I don't feel like it at the moment."

"I found you," Angelique said, in a voice as quiet as the breeze, as sharp as a knife and as brittle as a glass window. "I found you. I was the one they went to and I found you lying there."

"I'm very grateful-"

"When I saw you lying on the floor I was afraid...I thought you might be...do you have any idea how worried I was?" Angelique cried, as tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes. "Do you care?"

"I do, of course I do-"

"Then why aren't you doing anything about it?" Angelique demanded. "You've been building up this ever since Prince Eugene left, you've been working yourself too hard and now it's all come home to roost you need to do something about it! You can't keep going as though nothing has happened."

"I've got no choice," Cinderella replied.

"Don't give me that, of course you have a choice," Angelique snapped. "You don't owe this country anything, least of all your life."

Cinderella was silent for a moment. "Angelique, why does this upset you so much?"

"Why?" Angelique cried. "Why? You ask..." she turned away, wiping her eyes with one hand. "You ask me why. Because I care about you, that's why! Because I hate seeing you like this!"

"Why?"

"Why what?" Angelique snapped.

"Why do you care about me?" Cinderella asked, sounding as earnest as anyone could when their throat was rattling like hers. "Why do you care about my condition?"

Angelique laughed. "Ah. I see. I see. This is where I tell you that I care because of all the good work that you've been doing, and you say 'gotcha' because I've just proven that you need to keep on doing that in order to be worthy or something, isn't it?"

Cinderella smiled. "You're much too clever for me, Angelique."

"Well the egg is on your face because that's not the answer at all," Angelique declared triumphantly. "I care about you because...I mean it's nice that you're willing to stick your neck out for the little people, that you're willing to speak up for the voiceless, but I never asked you to do that and I never thought that you would. Jean believed that you'd be all that and more but I didn't expect you to be any different from the rest."

"And am I?" Cinderella asked. "No different?"

"Of course you're different, don't be silly," Angelique replied. "You're...you're the second-best person I know."

Cinderella chuckled. "Only second-best."

"That's quite a compliment, I've got high standards," Angelique replied.

Cinderella smiled, and in spite of all the problems with which rampant sickness had afflicted her, her smile retained some of that incandescent loveliness that had hitherto clung to her life perfume. "I know, and I take it as a great compliment, thank you."

Angelique stared at her wordlessly for a moment. "I stand by what I said. You don't owe anyone your life; you don't need to ruin yourself just so you can be a light of hope for people."

Cinderella coughed. "Don't you think your being a little melodramatic?"

"Don't you think you're not taking this seriously enough?"

Cinderella settled back on the settee. "I'll make a deal with you. Once my most important work is complete, I'll take a break. I'll even think about going away to the Summer Palace for a few weeks to see if the fresh air does me good. Once my work is done then I will start taking care of myself, how does that sound?"

"It would sound better if you said you were going to start now," Angelique said. "But this is the best I'm going to get isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so," Cinderella said. "Now, would you please be very kind and ring for Duchamp for me? I really do need to start getting ready."

Angelique sighed, and shook her head slightly, but nevertheless she did as she was bidden and went to ring for the lady's maid.

* * *

Serena sniffled. "Do you have to keep that cat in here? I'm slightly allergic."

"Oh, Morningstar won't hurt you," Grace said, as she knelt down to scratch under the chin of the black cat who purred appreciatively at her affections. "And he'll make sure that there are no unwelcome eyes and ears trying to spy on us, won't you? Yes you will. Yes you will."

Morningstar purred. And then, as suddenly as a lightning bolt from a clear sky, his green eyes snapped open. He turned, jerking away from Grace's scratching fingers and bounding over to the wall where, with a loud yowling, he began to scratch as though he were searching for something.

"Hmm, it appears we've got mice," Grace said, as she got to her feet, smoothing out her golden skirt as she did so. "But I doubt they'll hear anything over all that."

"I can barely hear anything over all that racket," Serena declared. "Can you not put him outside?"

"But then the mice would hear us."

Serena's eyebrows rose. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing of any consequence," Grace said. "Just the reason why I'm not going to meet with you without Morningstar present. The walls have little ears, and tiny eyes as well."

Not for the first time, Serena considered the idea that Grace might be a little mad. Certainly there was something...not entirely right about her. There was a sense, when they were speaking like this, that the Grace du Villeroi with whom she conspired was just as fake as the Grace du Villeroi whom Cinderella called a friend. Just another mask to show the world. And what might that mask be hiding? A troubling thought.

 _For the time being I'll work with her, out of necessity. But I won't turn my back on her, and before the end she might have to be shuffled off the stage at the same time as Cinderella takes her leave._

 _I won't want her hanging around, working against me as we worked against Cinderella._

If Grace, whatever her real face looked like with all its masks stripped away, wasn't planning to strike at her in exactly the same way then Serena would be very surprised. How could they trust each other, when they had both betrayed their mistress, not to betray one another? How could they expect loyalty, having demonstrated none? Cinderella's unique circumstances, her naivety and the utter unfitness of anyone of her class to sit the throne, may have provided the impetus for their actions...but that sort of behaviour wasn't something you could put back in a box when you were done.

Neither of them would rest easy around the other, but Serena was confident that she would win in the end. She didn't know Grace's true nature, but she knew her own: she knew her own intelligence, and her won resourcefulness.

 _And I have my brother. Together we can do anything._

"Now, Serena," Grace said, with a smile that didn't quite reach all the way to her eyes. "What did you want to talk about?"

Serena hesitated, mindful of Grace's insistence that they were being spied upon. Perhaps mouse was a euphemism of some sort? Perhaps Angelique or someone like her had found the secret passages that Lucien had used to terrorise Cinderella? Perhaps they really were being listened in on, although how a cat would help with that...she supposed it was making a lot of noise.

"I don't suppose you'd consider sharing the secret of that old family recipe you gave to Cinderella?" she asked. "It looked delicious."

Grace gave a little tittering laugh. "Careful, Serena, taking medicine when there's nothing wrong with you can make you ill."

 _Poison, then._ Serena had suspected as much, though she hadn't noticed Cinderella drinking any concoction of Grace's before today. Which meant that either Grace had been giving it to her very discreetly – possible – or else Cinderella had made herself ill through overwork and Grace had taken the opportunity that she didn't get better; which was also quite possible.

 _Or something else going on altogether._ She wouldn't find out the truth unless she asked for it directly, and in light of Grace's suspicions with regard to eavesdropping…Serena wasn't sure that she wanted to do that.

"How long…do you think it will take for the treatment to take effect?" she asked.

"It's not fast acting, I'm afraid," Grace replied. "But it never fails, providing the patient keeps taking it."

"I see," Serena murmured. "Well, I suppose Cinderella is very fortunate that you're around to remind her of it."

"Isn't she just?" Grace said, with another tinkling laugh. "She'll be her old angelic self in no time at all. Although…I must say I'm a little worried about her."

"How so?"

"In her current unwell state, not thinking clearly, she might make an unwise decision, a decision that strikes at the heart of our interests. I'm sure that she'd never do something like that willingly, but in her current state-"

"Cinderella knows her own mind best, I'm sure," Serena said blithely. "If she wants to strike at the heart of the aristocratic interest then who are we, mere humble servants, to stand in the way of that."

"You're being…remarkably supportive."

"Someone has to be, after all if Cinderella were to take a principled stand it could lead to the final annihilation of her support among the nobility, such as it is," Serena said. "And then it would be up to us to stand by her with absolute loyalty." She hoped that Grace was intelligent enough to grasp the meaning behind what she had just said. At the moment Cinderella was not popular with the court and nobility; that was almost an understatement. Resentment at a common dishmaid usurping the place that should, by rights, have gone to the daughter of some titled and ennobled line, fear of what this upstart outsider might do to correct the unequal balance of society in Armorique and strip the nobility of their privileges, hatred of all she stood for and represented had all combined among the court to cause a rancorous discontent of Cinderella and her position. Serena had fanned the flames of that discontent with a variety of scandals and stories faithfully printed in the _Courier_ ; if Cinderella passed away, or even if she were put aside by Prince Eugene, then none would shed any tears for her. But there remained a bedrock of honest and integrity even amongst those who loathed Cinderella, combined with a fierce competition that meant that the great body of the court was unlikely to stand idly by while Serena and Grace combined to tear down a lawfully wedded princess and claim the tiara for themselves. But, if Cinderella was to do something to strike directly at their privileges, as it seemed that she was on the cusp of doing, if she was give some gift to the people that augured further revolutionary blows to come…then all the court would acclaim Serena de Montcalm as their saviour when the moment came.

Cinderella had to be allowed to proceed for now, so that the whole country realised what it had been rescued from.

* * *

Cinderella settled rather heavily into the King's chair, in the King's study, with Eugene's giant portrait staring down at her. She was glad of that. Now more than ever she felt in need of the strength and reassurance only his presence could provide.

She felt absolutely wretched. When Angelique had begged her to take to her bed and get well it had taken all of Cinderella's resolve not to do just that. Her eyelids felt as though they were being pulled downwards by immense weights, and staying awake was a battle; her head felt as though a thousand great brass bells were ringing inside of it; her nose was running like a river; her throat felt as though it was coated in tar and at the same time being assailed with knives and that was before she started coughing, which seemed to make it much worse. Her stomach ached with hunger, and yet whenever she tried to eat anything it protested loudly and sent it back like an obnoxious mistress berating the cooks; she felt cramping pains, her chest ached, and she sweated and shivered at the same time. Her eyes felt as though they were about to water.

All of these symptoms had, more or less, been stealing up on her for weeks now, some of them since Eugene went away, others since His Majesty was taken ill, some since Lucien had turned on her with such fury; but now it seemed that they had all caught up with her at once and it was making Cinderella's life even more unbearable than it had been before, and things had hardly been perfect before her health decided to fail her. She wobbled when she walked, and had been forced to temporarily abandon high-heeled slippers because the risk of her stumbling over in them was too great. She was becoming as skinny and bony as a stick figure, and when she looked in a mirror she hardly recognised herself. She had been reduced to arranging her hair in such a way as to try to hide the lumps on her neck, and she wasn't sure it was entirely successful.

She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to resist the advice of her doctor. But she was a part of something so much bigger than herself, so many people needed her, how could she ignore them just because she didn't feel like it. She was the Princess Regent, and she had work to do.

Once she had done that work, then she would rest...and very gratefully too.

Eugene's second letter sat on the desk in front of her, along with sundry other papers that she would require for her meetings today. Getting up and moving around had become so difficult for her that she intended to do everything she had to do from this one room and spare herself having to journey around the vast palace.

Eugene's letter had arrived with the ship carrying the wounded men; he must have written it swiftly after the first, for it contained no knowledge of any of the events of Cinderella's later letters to him. She hadn't sent him one for two weeks, missing last week entirely. Cinderella wasn't sure of what to tell him. She still wrote to him each day, no matter how late it was or how tired she felt or, indeed, how cramped her hand was with the result that some of her letters were practically illegible; but when it came to producing a letter for last week her judgement had failed her completely. Or perhaps it was her courage that was at fault. How could she tell Eugene what had befallen her? She had to tell him, she absolutely had that obligation, after how hurt and betrayed she had felt when she discovered his omissions there was no way to keep these developments a secret, but...how could she tell the man she loved so dearly that the whole world now thought she had been sharing their bed with other men? How could she tell her husband that the court now though him a cuckold? How could she explain what Lucien had done?

Cinderella blinked, slowly, and with unnatural effort in getting her eyes to open again, as she fought to wrench her thoughts away from personal affairs of Cinderella and onto the larger concerns of the Princess Regent. Eugene's letter had been equal parts tender and businesslike, and while his tenderness had been appreciated by Cinderella - now moreso than ever - his businesslike annoucements created more work for the Princess Regent. He asked for reinforcements, and so Cinderella was to meet with a trio of venerable senior officers to discuss what more Armorique could send to him and to America.

The generals arrived, and Cinderella sought to stifle yawns and coughs alike as she steered the discussion. Eugene had requested ten thousand extra men, could Armorique send so many? No, said the generals unanimously, and explained the necessity of maintaining a guard upon the borders - especially with Anjou's war to the south - and of keeping men in hand to curb civil disorder. Cinderella didn't believe that there was as much need for that as they thought, and in any case she would never have ordered the troops to fire upon the people, but since she was unable to persuade them of that point the discussion moved on to what men Armorique could provide. Three thousand said one, five thousand said another; with strong encouragement from Cinderella they eventually settled on seven thousand, at which point she called it a job well done and sent them off to see to the practicalities of it. Although it was less than he had asked for, Cinderella hoped that he would appreciate it regardless.

Sieur Robert walked into the room shortly after, sweeping the top hat off his head as he came; Cinderella tried to rise for him, but ended up leaving heavily upon the table instead.

"Please, your highness, you have no need to rise on my account," Sieur Robert assured her. "If you wish to postpone this meeting in respect of your health, then-"

"No," Cinderella said firmly, or at least she sounded firm beneath the frog in her throat. "No, thank you, Sieur Robert, that will not be necessary. I can manage just fine. Please sit down." She sat, as he finished crossing the room to take the seat on the other side of the table.

"If you are certain that you wish to proceed, princess, I am at your service," he said.

"I'm very glad to hear that," Cinderella said, or rather croaked.

Sieur Robert nodded. "I...I suppose I should apologies, highness, for my words yesterday. You had ever right to take offence at the treatment that you recieved...as my wife reminded me yesterday. Lady Danjou admires your restraint greatly in only throwing us out of the room."

Cinderella started to chuckle, but unfortunately it turned into a coughing fit. "Please thank Lady Danjou for the kind words."

Sieur Robert nodded again, even as he leaned forward. "Your highness, are you sure that you're alright?"

"I...I'm well enough to go on," Cinderella replied. "If we could please proceed with the meeting."

They discussed some routine matters, principally the appointment of some new judges whose seats had fallen vacant, and wrapped up some surplus business regarding the privy council meeting that had been abruptly ended yesterday. And then, with that out of the way, they moved on to what Cinderella considered the main business of their meeting.

Cinderella began to speak, then had to wait until another burst of coughing had subsided before she picked up the bill she had ordered prepared - not in the hand that she had just coughed into, naturally, and handed it across the table to Sieur Robert, who was courteous enough not to remark on the fact that her hand was shaking under the weight of a small sheaf of papers.

"I had this bill drawn up by the royal secretaries," Cinderella told him. "I intend to present it to the Assembly for legislation as soon as possible, but I wanted to let you see it first."

Sieur Robert crossed his legs, and leaned back in his chair as he quickly perused the document that Cinderella had just handed to him. He glanced up at her. "Repeal of the duties on grain?"

"As well as paper, sugar and coffee," Cinderella said.

Sieur Robert sighed heavily. "Your highness-"

"You don't approve?" Cinderella asked. "The right is on my side, and so is the economics."

"Politics is not always decided on moral right or economic good sense," Sieur Robert muttered. "This will offend a great many people."

"None of whom seem to have thought twice about offending me," Cinderella pointed out; she allowed a touch of rancour to enter her voice, and the tone of sickness made it seem more than just a touch. "The nobility of this country laugh at me, they call me an adulteress, they make up stories about me and claim to believe them, they hate me...but I should hold back from doing the right thing because it will upset them?"

"His Majesty the King-"

"Isn't here, unfortunately for both of us," Cinderella said. She coughed twice. "Believe me, Sieur Robert, I've tried to pretend to be someone that I'm not. It didn't make anybody happy. Therefore I may as well please myself, and do what I think is right."

"Please yourself...and please the mob."

"The people will be pleased, I hope," Cinderella said, her choice of word a gentle reproof to his. "I hope they will also remember that I promised to help and know that I'm a woman of my word. But if they don't...it doesn't really matter. So long as they benefit, that's the only thing that counts."

"Ethically perhaps, your highness, but in politics there are much more important considerations than whether something is right or wrong. The interests in grain, coffee, sugar, the West Indian lobby, the great land-owning famillies of the realm...you offend them all, and they all sit behind me!"

"Are you saying that it cannot be done?" Cinderella asked.

"I am saying that it cannot be done by me," Sieur Robert replied. "I stood for election upon the integrity of our system of protection, I have defended that system to my supporters in the Assembly."

"Even though you knew it was wrong?"

Sieur Robert licked his lips. "Yes," he said. "Because I thought it a small price worth paying for good governance."

"Not for me," Cinderella replied, with a shake of her head. "To force the poor to pay more for the necessities of living would be too cruel even if the arguments for doing were sound, but they aren't. It...it is too cruel. I cannot sit by while I have the power to change that." She hesitated for a moment, looking down at her hands. "When this law is presented to the Assembly, will it pass?"

Sieur Robert gave a half-nod of his head. "I haven't sat down and done the electoral mathematics, but there should be enough votes in the Assembly to see it through. Not all of my own party are rabid protectionists, and most of the opposition will be loudly in favour of this law."

Cinderella smiled. "Forgive me for saying, Sieur Robert, but I'm glad. Even though I am sorry to put you in this position-"

"You are not so sorry that you're going to forego putting me in this position," Sieur Robert replied, with a wry smile.

"It is the right thing to do," Cinderella said.

Sieur Robert stared at her. "It is that, your highness. I cannot fault your commitment to firm principle. In fact, if I may confess...I admire it. And yet...Your Highness, I fear I must offer my resignation as your premier."

Cinderella's eyes widened. She hadn't expected this. "I...why?"

"I may be a tawdry politician, willing to put his private principles aside for the sake of power, but I cannot abandon my public principles quite so easily," Sieur Robert said, somewhat apologetically. "And, in any case, it is best that your highness' laws be steered through the Assembly by ministers who can give them their whole-hearted support. I have little doubt that you will find Lord Roux congenial to your tastes than I have been, nor that he will be amenable to seeing this bill through to law. I give your highness my word that I will support it...but as leader of the loyal opposition, not as premier. My backbenchers will grumble but they won't hold me personally responsible as they would do otherwise."

"A politcal trick," Cinderella said.

"I am a politician," Sieur Robert reminded her.

"Yes you are," Cinderella murmured. "And yet...you have always been courteous to me, Sieur Robert, even when others were not. I thank you for that."

"If for nothing else?"

Cinderella chuckled, and this time she managed not to cough. "I am sure that, if His Majesty were well, he would have many kind things to say to you. But I'm afraid that I don't know you well enough to say them."

"Then I shall accept the praise I have been given and take my leave," Sieur Robert said, as he pushed himself to his feet. He waved for Cinderella to remain seated. "I hope and pray that His Majesty's health will recover, as I pray that His Highness Prince Eugene will return victorious from our war. But, when the time comes, I think the people of Armorique will be very fortunate in their queen. Farewell, your highness." He bowed from the waist.

"Farewell, Sieur Robert," Cinderella said, as he took his leave of her.

She slumped backwards into her chair, feeling a great weariness settle over her for a moment, before she tried to raise her voice enough to call for a messenger.

It appeared that she had a new government to appoint.


	36. Frederica Lends a Hand

Frederica Lends a Hand

Shortly after Sieur Robert took his leave, Cinderella summoned Lord Roux, the leader of the opposition, and invited him to take up the office of Premier and to form a government. Lord Roux, a middle-aged man with sunken cheeks and a rather nasal voice, told her that would endeavour to undertake to do so, which Cinderella took to be little more than a rather long-winded way of agreeing to her request. Nevertheless he refused to kiss hands, and not because he was afraid of catching her bug but because, as he informed her, he had not yet undertaken to form a government, only endeavoured to do so. Cinderella could only hope that his endeavours would prove successful, and that he would start to actually undertake soon.

But, after taking his leave, Cinderella heard nothing more from the man. Not that day, or the next day, or the day after. Not for the entire week, nor the week after that, and Cinderella's slightly impatient messages to him went unanswered. Cinderella could find nothing out about the delay, and found that this was an instant where her low reputation among the nobility hindered her: no one who might know what was causing the hold up would talk to her, and in the meantime Armorique was without a government. The life and ordinary business of the country continued, and Cinderella's own powers as Regent gave her some ability to act, but without a government the business of government, of necessity, ground to a halt.

And, with no government, there was no one to oversee the passage of Cinderella's law through the Assembly.

Nevertheless Cinderella did not despair of the situation. If there was one thing that she had learned in servitude it was patience, and the ability to keep going without succumbing to despair. It had been two weeks, it might turn into three or four. What was two weeks delay? What was a month? So long as it happened in the end - and Cinderella had no doubt that it would, and sooner rather than later – what did such a small delay matter? The prize, without a doubt, was worth waiting for.

The people were, perhaps, a little less willing to be patient than Cinderella was, but then perhaps it was her own fault for having told them what she planned to do. But then…she hadn't felt she had a lot of choice. She might be naïve, and ignorant, and inexperienced, but she wasn't a complete idiot: it had happened enough times to her by now that she could see that the _Courier_ would find some way to make Sieur Robert's resignation look as though it was entirely her fault (and, as with Lucien's awful allegations, fresh details about which were being invented almost every other day, some of the details might even be true) and so she had sent for Monsieur Valis of the _Gazette_ and told him everything: the news about her plan to abolish the duties not only on grain but on paper, sugar and coffee too had made the evening edition, and produced a great swell of support that had frankly staggered Cinderella. Great rallies were being held all across the city, every day in front of the palace there was a demonstration chanting her name, asking her to come out so that they could thank her, donations to the Princess' Fund had increased, even moreso after Cinderella made it known that if people wished to show their gratitude it was better that they make a small donation to the wellbeing of the soldiers than to tire themselves out in front of her gate.

Especially since she didn't go out to see them. She wanted to. She wanted to so very much to go out, to hear their voices up close, to speak to them, to address some of the rallies being held in her support. Perhaps it was vain of her, it was terribly vain of her, but with so many awful stories being written about her, with so many awful things being said about her, with Eugene away and his letters infrequent…it was nice to feel loved, if only as a symbol.

But Cinderella did not go. She was too unwell, Angelique would not permit it and all her other ladies agreed with her. And besides…as much as Cinderella craved the affection of the crowds, driven in some part by her vanity, that same vanity was reluctant to let them see her like this. When she felt better, perhaps.

Whenever that was. So far it almost seemed as though she was getting worse. Grace's family secret brought her some momentary relief, but the effect never lasted unfortunately. Everyday she woke up feeling worse than the day before, but also hopeful that her affliction must peak, if not today then soon…but it never did. Sometimes it took all her effort just to get up out of bed. Sometimes she feared her legs would not support her.

That was another reason why no longer went out to meet the people: she was afraid her own body would humiliate her if she did. Imagine if she fell, or collapsed as she had in her room…it would be inexcusable.

And yet there were signs that the public was starting to grow restless. They didn't understand the delay in what they had been promised, and Cinderella couldn't really explain the cause of it to them either. All she could do was use the _Gazette_ to council patience, and make sure that people knew she hadn't given up and neither should they.

So things stood when Cinderella, trying to concentrate long enough to get through some military reports that she had to look at because there was no War Minister to see to them, was interrupted by Augustina coming up to her room.

Cinderella leaned forward to put the paperwork down on the low little table in front of her. "Augustina," she said, as she leaned back upon the settee. Cinderella plucked a white silk handkerchief from the pocket of her dressing gown and blew her nose before she continued. "Do you need something?" Her ladies-in-waiting tended to leave her alone when she was working, knowing that she appreciated the lack of distraction, but she made sure they knew that they could disturb her if there was a need for it. "Is everything alright?" Augustina was standing...awkwardly, or so it seemed to Cinderella. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her face was lowered towards the ground, she couldn't quite meet Cinderella's eyes; it was the sort of nervousness that Marinette might have exhibited once, but Augustina never did.

"I'm fine, I just..." Augustina hesitated for a moment, before she finally did meet Cinderella's gaze. "I'm sorry that this has to come now but I have to go."

"Go?" Cinderella repeated. "Go where?"

"Home."

"Home?" Cinderella repeated Augustina once again as though she were a trained parrot. "Oh dear, is your stepmother ill? Well of course you must go. How long do you expect to be gone?"

"I...I don't expect to return," Augustina said. "I'm leaving."

Cinderella was silent for a moment. "I see," she murmured. "Can I...can I ask why?" _What did I do wrong?_

Augustina turned her eyes downward for a moment. "It is...it's a matter of principle. Your actions, well-intentioned as they are, are an assault upon our values; I must stand with my class, I'm sorry. I cannot be a party to this."

Cinderella blinked. "I see," she said softly, or as softly as she could with a sore throat that seemed to be getting worse, not better. She felt a deep welling up of emptiness within her. It was true that she and Augustina had not enjoyed the closest of friendships in Cinderella's household, but Cinderella had nevertheless considered her a friend. She had given Cinderella some wise advice, and she had always been honest. She was being honest now, although it was a little harder to hear it in the present circumstances. Cinderella had considered her a friend...but she had driven her away nonetheless. "Is...is there nothing I can say to persuade you not to go?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Not even if your fears, everyone's fears about what this will mean turn out to be groundless?" Cinderella asked. "I...I have the figures somewhere showing-"

"This isn't about money," Augustina declared. "I've done the figures myself. My family keeps horses in three counties, and I estimate we shall save fifteen hundred a year by free trade."

Cinderella frowned. "Then why?"

"Because our standard is planted in the ground," Augustina said. "It may not be the best ground, or even very good ground; it may not be an attractive hill to die on, certainly it is not the right hill but it is our hill nonetheless and we must fight for it. As I said, it's a matter of principle. I can no more support this with my presence than...than you could not go forward with this now that you have the power."

Cinderella closed her eyes for a moment, and a deep sigh escaped her. "I...I suppose, then, that there is nothing left but to wish you goodbye?"

"A pleasant goodbye, I hope," Augustina whispered. "I...I would have us part as friends, not enemies."

"You mean...you don't hate me, for what I'm doing?"

"Hate you?" Augustina looked at her as though she was mad. "Hate you? No, princess, I don't hate you. The truth is...the truth is I respect you a great deal. Don't you realise how easy it would have been for you to ignore the plight of the people? How simple and straightforward it would be for you, cossetted behind these palace walls, to close your ears to what the people want? I may not approve of what you're doing, and certainly I cannot endorse it on behalf of my family but...I can't help but respect it either. You're adhering to your own beliefs, no less heartfelt than my own, and I admire that. I admire it greatly. I...I confess I didn't think much of you when we first met. I...I didn't think that there was very much there, beneath the gown and pearls. I'm happy to admit that I was wrong, and I will be honoured to say that I was once at your service, Princess Cinderella."

Cinderella smiled. "That...that's very kind of you, Augustina. I...I'd like us to part as friends as well." She struggled to climb to her feet, ignoring Augustina's protests that she need not do so. "Though our beliefs are different, I hope our friendship will remain. You'll always be welcome here."

Augustina managed a smile of her own. "That's very generous of you. I'd expect nothing less."

Cinderella walked slowly and slightly unsteadily around the table. "I would embrace you, but...well, I wouldn't want to make you ill."

"I'll take the risk, if you don't mind," Augustina said, and she crossed the room and took Cinderella in her arms, holding her close. "You have a backbone of steel and the heart of a lioness. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise." She gave Cinderella a peck on the cheek before she pulled away. "But...perhaps make a little more use of them, and don't hide them so often behind a desire to please others."

"I'm sure that's excellent advice," Cinderella said. "But I can thank you for the compliment more easily than I can promise to follow your recommendation."

Augustina nodded. "One last piece of advice, if I may, before I go; something else I'm afraid you'll have trouble following."

"What is it?"

"Trust Angelique," Augustina said. "I haven't always agreed with her, and I can't really say that I like her...but of all of us she is the one who most has your best interests at heart, I think. If she comes to you, if she warns you...trust her, even if what she's saying hurts."

Cinderella took a step backwards, a frown crossing her somewhat sickly features. "What are you trying to tell me, Augustina?"

"I...I'm not entirely sure myself," Augustina said. "But remember what I said. The rough diamond is the one you ought to trust the most."

"I trust all of my ladies in waiting."

"I know," Augustina replied. "That's what concerns me." She smiled. "But enough gloomy and portentous talk. I have to go, I've already sent for my carriage and my packing is still not done. Au revoir, Princess Cinderella; though I wish you hadn't chosen this course...I wish you every success on it."

"Goodbye," Cinderella said. "I hope we'll meet again."

Augustina hesitated. "I...I hope so too." She half turned away, before she stopped and looked back at Cinderella. "Keep following your heart, princess," she said. "It may not always seem like it, but so far it has served you very well. Keep going forward in your beliefs and you'll go very far indeed."

* * *

Three weeks turned into four, and still Armorique was without a government. Cinderella heard nothing from Lord Roux, and could learn nothing. She felt like a bird in a cage, alone and forgotten in a darkened room, cheeping and chirruping to the dark with no one there to hear…starving to death unheard, unheeded, uncared for. She was marooned inside this palace, trapped by her frail body and the contempt in which she was held by those whom she had once hoped would become her friends. She heard nothing, saw nothing, knew nothing except that the public were becoming restless; and about that, she could do nothing.

The only consolation that she had, and admittedly it was a very great consolation indeed, was a third letter from Eugene; just as with his first two letters, Cinderella's hands shook with a mixture of nervousness and excitement (or was it just frailty?) as she tore open the sealed envelope to discover what lay within.

 _My Beloved Cinderella,_

 _I write this letter to you on the evening of a day in which you have saved my life._

 _We fought another battle today, and as before we were victorious, although not without cost. We have continued to pursue Lafayette's forces, and he rounded on us at a place called Champion Hill. The enemy had a creek to their front, and it was hard going for my men to secure the crossing. As I was directing the assault, I was struck in the chest_.

Cinderella gasped in horror. It didn't matter that reason said that Eugene was clearly alive and in reasonable enough health to write to her, because in that moment Cinderella was not ruled by reason. She was ruled by the swifter beating of her heart like a drum rattling faster and faster to drive the marching soldiers onward, she was ruled by the painful tightening of her chest, she was ruled by the shortness of her breath. She was ruled by all her fears and terrors that had seemingly come true. Cinderella forced herself to read on.

 _But, although I was knocked from the back of my horse and have a sore back of my own because of it, I was not seriously or permanently injured. The bullet that struck me, struck the locket with your portrait in. Cinderella, you have been the delight of my life ever since you first came into it, and now you have saved me._

Cinderella collapsed, doubling over in the chair in which she sat as a ragged sob of relief escaped her. _Thank God. Thank God. Please keep him safe. Please keep him now and forever so that he'll come back to me._ She wiped away the tears that were springing to the corners of her eyes, and read on further.

 _Unfortunately, the locket is completely ruined now, and your portrait with it. If it is not too much trouble, and if the request is not too impertinent, I would ask you to send me another; I do not know how much longer I shall be here, but a day without seeing your lovely face is too long._

Cinderella couldn't help but smile at that, even though she knew that her face was less lovely now than it had been when he left. _He wouldn't write so charmingly if he could see me as I am, nor thank me if I sent him a picture of the phantom I've become._ She continued reading.

 _Etienne said that he would write to his fiancé and his mother - and about time, too - but in case he doesn't actually do it would you please tell them that he distinguished himself in the latest battle. While the main force under my command was fixing the rebels upon the river, Etienne led a force of cavalry around the flank, discovered an unguarded ford, and managed to secure the hill before taking the enemy in the rear, putting them to flight. He is a brigadier general now, and all puffed up with pride at his advancement. It affords me some much needed levity._

 _Cinderella, I promised that I would not lie to you, and I aim to keep my word: I am worried. I do not yet know if you have responded to my last request for reinforcements, although I have every confidence that you are doing all you can. Whatever you have done, I'm afraid that I must ask you to do more. We have won every battle we have fought against the rebel forces, and taken every city to which we have laid siege: New Orleans, Mobile, Pensacola and Jackson are all back in our hands, and I have no doubt that Vicksburg will go the same way soon as we resume marching on it tomorrow. But this country is so vast, so much larger than I ever anticipated, and so many of the people here are sympathetic to the rebel cause. Lafayette's army melts away after every defeat that I inflict upon him, and he is guided and supplied by local sympathisers while our own soldiers are greeted with lies and misdirection._

 _I have tried, I still try, to win the people of this colony over to their rightful allegiance; I ask myself what you would do, what you would want me to do, and so I endeavour treat the civilians caught up in this war - whatever is in their hearts - with gentleness and compassion. But it does not help to win this war. The country is so vast that I cannot pin the rebels down, sometimes I cannot even find them; they spring up out of the ground like weeds and I do not have enough men to keep my army strong enough to fight and to hold securely all that we have gained. Efforts to raise loyalist troops have borne some fruit but not enough. That is why I need more men, every man that you can send, to make an end of this._

 _I long for nothing more than to see you again, and to put my arms around you, to kiss you, and to love you. I pray that the day comes soon when I may do all those things once more._

 _Yours, ever,_

 _Eugene_.

Cinderella put down the letter as a sense of squirming guilt overwhelmed. _I promised I wouldn't lie to you._ He had been honest with her, but now she had failed to be honest with him. She hadn't yet told him what Lucien had done, or how the country had reacted to it.

She supposed it was a minor miracle that he hadn't found out yet by some other means. She ought to give thanks that no one writing to their son, or brother or father had mentioned the latest and most scandalous gossip of the court, or if they had that same gossip had not reached Eugene's ears. If he had known he would have said something about it, surely; if only to ask her if it were true.

 _Thank God he doesn't know._ As much as Cinderella flinched from the task of telling him, even more she feared that someone else would tell him that she had accused of an affair with Lucien Gerard, of another with Jean, of sleeping her way through half the court before she had a chance to explain herself. She had to tell him, before it was too late. If he found out from someone other than her...she would be revealed as a tremendous hypocrite, and even if - when, when he believed her; he would believe her, she had to remember that he would - he believed that she was innocent the omission might still cost her his trust forever more.

She had to tell him, as hard as it was.

But first - and Cinderella was well aware that she was prevaricating upon the point, but soothed her somewhat guilty conscience by telling herself that it would make no difference to when Eugene recieved the letter - she sent for Marinette, in case she had not yet recieved the news about Colonel Gerard.

Judging by the bright smile playing across Marinette's lips as she arrived, slightly breathlessly, in the study, Cinderella guessed that he had done so.

"Have you had a letter as well?" Marinette asked as she walked briskly - half running, really - into the room.

"I have," Cinderella said. She coughed. "I take it that your brother has written to you, then?"

"He has, finally," Marinette said, with just a hint of testiness in her voice. "I...I'm glad to hear that Prince Eugene wasn't seriously hurt."

Cinderella closed her eyes for a moment. "I know, but...when I think about how close he came, about how lucky he was, I...oh, Marinette, what will I do if he isn't so lucky next time? Without Eugene, I..." she stopped herself. "I'm terribly sorry; I didn't mean to bore you with-"

"It's alright," Marinette said quickly. "I understand. I think...I think everyone who knows someone over there understands. When you get a letter...you're never quite sure who it's from. It's strange...you end up trying to forget that there's a war going on, because if you didn't...we'd never stop worrying, would we?"

"No, we wouldn't," Cinderella agreed, though softly and with the barest hint of shame in her voice for it. She forced herself to smile. "But today, thank God, neither of us have reason to worry. My husband is safe, and your brother is the hero of the hour; you must be very proud."

Marinette shook her head. "I'm glad that he's proud of it, but...he was always my brother and I always loved him; a promotion doesn't change how I feel about him." Her face fell. "I'm afraid it won't change how my mother feels either."

Cinderella's thin brow furrowed. "If you want to go and tell her...I don't mind."

"She won't want to see me unless I've come to apologise and ask her forgiveness," Marinette said. "And I...I'm not sure I want to see her either. Perhaps Etienne has writte to her, although I hope not. I...I, um," her face went ever so slightly red. "I've written to Etienne a couple of times...but I haven't told him about my mother, because I haven't told him about Lucien either, about what he did. If I told him then he'd tell Prince Eugene for certain and...I didn't know if..."

"That's very kind of you," Cinderella said. "I...I haven't told Eugene yet. I will, but...thank you, for keeping my secret. Please, don't tell your brother yet...I want Eugene to hear it from me first."

"Of course," Marinette whispered. "I...I talked to Lucrecia, and made sure that she didn't say anything either."

Cinderella sighed with relief. "What would I do without you? Would you like to make sure that she's heard the good news?"

"I will, I mean I would, yes, thank you," Marinette replied.

"No, thank you, Marinette, for keeping silent and explaining to Lucrecia and, well, for everthing," Cinderella said. "And...can I say I'm glad to see that you seem to get on well with your future sister-in-law."

"She makes Etienne happy," Marinette said. "I can't really ask for more than that, can I?"

"No, I suppose you can't," Cinderella replied. "Now off you go and tell her."

Once Marinette was gone, Cinderella continued to put off the moment of writing out the truth to Eugene, as if so long as she delayed committing the truth to writing it remained somehow untrue; she supposed, as far as Eugene was concerned, that was the truth. It had happened, but he was ignorant of it; until she told him what had gone on and what was going on it was as if for him in Lousiana it had never happened, just as the battle that he had fought in which he had been saved and Colonel, no, General Gerard now, hd distinguished himself had not occurred for her until she opened his letter and read about it.

 _It's as though, when I write about what Lucien did to me, it's happening all over again,_ Cinderella thought. _Little wonder I don't want to tell him. But I must._

But first, Cinderella summoned once more the generals to discuss what more troops could be spared to augment Eugene's forces. As Cinderella had half expected, given the tenor of their discussion with her just a month ago, they were doubtful; their first response was to say nothing at all. But, after Cinderella made clear to them that she had no intention of setting the army upon the people anyway, and after they unhappily conceded that it might be possible to replace a couple of season battalions upon the southern border with new recruits, it might be possible to find another four or five thousand men to send to America.

But, they were adamant in informing her, this was the last reinforcement for the colonies that Armorique could raise. Fresh troops were being recruited, but they were untrained and unready for field service. To diminish the forces at home any further would leave Armorique unconscionably vulnerable at a delicate time in European affairs.

 _What about the guards?_ Cinderella wondered. Eugene had taken most of the Guard and Household regiments with him, but - aside from a few men like Jean who were detailed away - there was still a full battalion of foot guards stationed at the battle. She thought of sending them to Eugene, or at least suggesting it...but the words caught in her sore throat even as she opened her mouth to speak them. She thought of Lucien, stealing into her room to harass her and fill her with dread, staring at her while she slept...the thought of leaving herself vulnerable to more intrustions - from him, or from all the people who seemed determined to kill her no matter who they hurt in the process - of leaving herself naked before them...she couldn't bear it. It was selfish of her, and it was not the act of a dutiful wife, but...but she couldn't help it. She wouldn't feel safe. Cinderella shuddered in distaste.

"Your highness?" asked one of the generals. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Cinderella said. Unfortunately at that moment she could not restrain a hacking cough. "I'm as fine as can be expected anyway. I'm sorry, gentlemen, please continue."

The meeting ended shortly after, with it being agreed to send Eugene four more battalions of foot and a single battery, more than four thousand men in all. But Cinderella would have to write and tell him that there were no more men to follow after this. Eugene would...he would have to make do, somehow.

 _God keep you safe._

It meant more unpleasant news that she would have to tell him...but there was no putting it off any longer.

Cinderella's hand trembled as she lifted the white quill pen out of the inkwell, and with her other hand pulled a clean piece of paper towards her.

 _My dearest Eugene,_ she wrote.

 _I am sorry that I haven't written to you in so long. If it has only been a few weeks it is still too long, but I beg you not to think me careless. I have not written because_ Cinderella paused for a moment, pondering her next words. _I have something terrible that I must tell you. I have been afraid to write it, but I cannot keep it from you any longer._

Cinderella hesitated once again, quill poised above the piece of paper. What should she say next? What ought she to say next? What could she possibly say next? _The whole court thinks I'm having an affair while you're away? The whole court thinks I am a promiscuous jezebel? Lucien tried to seduce me? Lucien assaulted me? Lucien left me those love letters? Lucien lied about me to the newspapers?_ All of those things were true, and yet all seemed so...wrong, somehow. How could she write such things as they in a letter to her husband, while he was away at war for the honour of his country?

And yet she must write them, or something like them. The alternative...it could not be contemplated.

 _Once, I chided you for keeping secrets from me; I did more than chide you, I got very upset. Now it is my turn to be honest with you again. You may remember a few letters that I received, beseeching my love and affection. The first of them arrived on the night you took me to the ballet, if you recall. You thought they were rather amusing, although I never liked them. While you were away I got more letters, far more. They started to scare me a little. More than a little; I started sharing my room with Angelique so that I would feel safer. Perhaps I should have told you all of this weeks ago; I probably should have, but I didn't want you to worry about me when you had yourself to worry about._

 _It was Lucien. Lucien was the one leaving me those awful letters, and he always was. He said he was in love with me, but if he ever really loved me, if he cared for me at all, if he had any care for the way I felt then he never would have terrified me the way he did. He_ Cinderella once again came to a halt, wondering how much she should or ought to tell Eugene about just how vilely Lucien had treated her, how thoroughly he had betrayed what Cinderella had considered their friendship. Should she tell Eugene that he had spied on her while she was sleeping, peeped on her while she was naked, seen things that only he and Eugene among men had seen? What would Eugene think, to read such things?

What would he think if he found out she had kept that from him?

Having asked for honesty from her husband, could she really give any less?

 _He spied on me, while I was sleeping and bathing and getting dressed, and when I told him that I did not love him he attacked me. I'm not hurt - Jean saved me again, he really is the best bodyguard that I could ever have - but I thought he was my friend, and he turned out to be_ Cinderella sought the word to describe just what Lucien Gerard had turned out to be; there were so many, just as there were so many words to describe how she had felt when Lucien had revealed all that he had done, when he had grabbed her, and tried to take what she would not give him: afraid, distressed, upset, angry, terrified, furious. Perhaps she should write some of them down, but she didn't want Eugene to think...she didn't want him to know how badly Lucien had frightened her. _not what I thought he was._

 _Everyone tells me that I should have had him arrested. Perhaps I should have, but I didn't want to upset Marinette by throwing her brother into prison. Marinette herself has been very kind throughout all this, I don't think I could do without her._

 _But now Lucien is talking to the newspapers, and has been for some time. The Courier told everyone that I had an affair with him, willingly. Before I found out the truth, I gave Lucien some money to pay off his debts, and once I gave him a diamond bracelet to sell. Later he stole out of my jewellery box, and then told everyone that these were love tokens. It is said that I have had an affair with him, and with Jean too._

 _I haven't. I love you. I love you. I love you and you alone you must believe me. You must believe me even though the whole rest of the world does not because if you don't I think my heart would break. I love you. Please believe me. Maybe I encouraged Lucien somehow but I have been true to you, I swear it._

 _I love you._

 _Please believe me._

 _I wish you were here. I wish it so much that if a wishing star were to appear above the palace, my wish for your return would be so great there would be now power left for any other wishes. Everyone in court - apart from my ladies-in-waiting, who have been so kind and so considerate - believes that I am an adulteress, or at least they pretend to believe it. Fortunately the common people don't believe it, or at least they don't care._

 _I'm sure you must be weary of my wittering on about myself by now, but I thought you deserved to know. You have been honest with me, and I must do the same. You deserved to learn this from me first._

 _On matters of more interest and concern to you: your father and your son are both well. I regret I have not spent much time with either of them lately, because I have been a bit under the weather lately and I don't want to make either of them sick, or more sick than they are now, but Marinette and Angelique look in on them and tell me that Philippe is happy and strong, while your father is no worse than he was._

 _I may not be able to send you a new locket for a while; as I said, I'm not feeling very well - the doctor says it might be pneumonia, although he isn't sure - and I'm afraid if I had a new portrait made you wouldn't recognise me, or want to look at me at all anyway._

 _I have done what I can to send you reinforcements. seven thousand new men sailed a few weeks ago, and almost five thousand will set off soon. After that, however, I'm not sure that there's anything more I can do. The generals say that there are no more men, and we have sent too many already._

 _I want you back with me so much. I want all the things that you want. I want you home._

 _I want this to be over._

 _Keep yourself safe, and come back to me._

 _I love you. I love you._

 _I love you._

 _Yours, forever, without doubt,_

 _Cinderella_

* * *

Two days went by, and still no word from Lord Roux. Still no government for Armorique. Cinderella, exiled to her palace if such a thing didn't sound too ridiculous for words, still heard nothing. Neither were Serena and Grace able to find anything out for her, although they both tried to learn what they could. Cinderella was condemned to wait, unable to know aught but what others had decided that it was fitting for her to know, just as she was condemned to wait cor Eugene's reply to her confession.

He would believe her. He must believe her if he loved her and he did love her, Cinderella believed that with all her heart.

She just wished that she could believe that he would believe her with all her heart.

There was no word from Lord Roux, but that didn't mean that Cinderella was completely without visitors. On the afternoon of the second day, shortly after lunch - at least shortly after Cinderella tried to have lunch, she was struggling to keep food down - as she was sitting on her sitting room in a state of half-idleness brought on by a weariness that taken over all her limbs, Cinderella was disturbed by a liveried equerry.

"Your Highness," he said. "Princess Frederica of Normandie is at the door, she requests an audience."

"Frederica?" Cinderella murmured, in a somewhat sleepy voice born out of her torpor. "Frederica's outside?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh my," Cinderella said. "Oh my goodness." She was completely and utterly unprepared. Not anticipating visitors - her hopes of Lord Roux were beginning to fade somewhat - she hadn't even got dressed, rather she was still wrapped up in her warm, fluffy nightgown. Cinderella started to vet up, inching towards the edge of the setter on which she was sprawled. "Please show Princess Frederica to the east sitting room, offer her refreshment and tell her I will be down shortly. Then please-"

The equerry coughed. "Begging your highness pardon, but Princess Frederica requests to meet you here, dressed as your highness is. She says she does not want to put you to any unnecessary bother."

Cinderella wondered briefly how Frederica had known where she was and what state she was in, before dismissing the question from her mind as unimportant. Rather, she simply nodded her head and said, "Very well, show her up please."

She coughed into one balled up hand as the servant began to descend the stairs, oh when would she start to get better, she was absolutely sick of this.

Frederica arrived with cheeks flushed with exertion, wearing a figure-flattering scarlet gown complete with a white fur still wrapped around her shoulders. In the sitting room doorway she paused, and caught her breath.

"You have a great many stairs to climb," she declared, and there was still a touch of the breathless in her voice. She paused, and her face twisted with distaste. "Your doctor is not taking sufficiently good care of you."

"It isn't his fault that I don't always follow his advice," Cinderella replied.

"No, it's your fault," Frederica observed. "Why aren't you taking his advice? Do you not look sufficiently corpse-like for your own taste?"

"I have too much work to do to sit in bed doing nothing," Cinderella said. She coughed, violently. "Especially without a government; I have to do so much."

Frederica frowned. "I wish that I could tell you that I'm here to make everything better, but I fear that is beyond all power save that of God himself." As she sat down in a seat opposite Cinderella, the Norman princess grinned. "But I do believe that I can help you out over your Louisiana issue."

Cinderella blinked rapidly. "Louisiana issue?"

"Yes, the fact that your territory is too large and your army too small for gallant Prince Eugene to properly hold it down."

Cinderella's mouth hung open for a moment. "How did you know that-"

"I know," Frederica declared, as though that was all that needed to be said upon the matter. "And I happen to have a solution for you." It turned out that the white fur stl she was wearing was concealing a brown leather satchel, from which Frederica produced a modest sheaf of documents all bound together. Waving them just a little in Cinderella's face, Frederica said, "Normandie is not at war. Normandie has men, brave men and fierce. And Normandie will give those men to you, for a time.

"This treaty, which I hold in my hand, obliges Normandie to supply twenty thousand troops, foot, horse and guns, to Armorique for service in Louisiana. Normandie will even provide unarmed transports ships to get them there, though your navy must escort them. Twenty thousand troops, think on it: more than Armorique can raise in a short time, more than all your reinforcements combined, perhaps enough to win the war and bring Eugene and all the boys back home. Doesn't that sound like a bargain at any price?"

A less perfect lady than Cinderella- and she still strived to behave like a perfect lady even if figs of a hacking cough made it difficult sometimes - might have clobbered in anticipation. It sounded too good to be true. Far more men than Eugene had asked for, perhaps enough to secure the country while chasing down the enemy at the same time. The Eugene could come back to her safe and sound, and Lucrecia could marry General Gerard, and these torrid rumours would be put to rest and Eugene could take over the recency and everything would be, if not perfect, then much better than it was right now.

Cinderella managed to avoid coughing, and instead only splattered for a moment. "But what is the price?"

"Pardon?"

"Since you said 'at any price' I suppose there is one," Cinderella said mildly.

Frederica laughed. "Well spotted, yes. Of course, you know that I would give you this for free, out of my affection, but ultimately my father will have to sign his name alongside yours and he does not like you. I mean, um, he Doesn't know you, so how could he like you? Aha. The point is, um, you will need to give Normandie something in return. I thought that Hispaniola might do the trick."

"Hispaniola," Cinderella mused. That...that was the island just West of Cuba, wasn't It? She could picture it from her history lessons, or thought she could. "Why would you want that?"

"For sugar, principally, as well as some coffee and tobacco and even a little cocoa too," Frederica explained. She hesitated. Unlike Armorique, Normandie does not have a large or wealthy empire in the new world. My ancestors were a little slow to recognise the potential of It, and consequently we got left behind. Hispaniola is one of the wealthiest islands in the Caribbean, with it in our possession the revenues of Normandie will increase dramatically. More than enough to offset the cost of aiding your war."

Cinderella smiled. "You're being very honest with me about this."

Frederica chuckled. "You're much too clever to believe me if I told I was going out of my way to win my country a barren rock in the middle of the ocean. Here's the treaty, you can read it for yourself."

Frederica sat in silence while Cinderella read through every page, confirming that all the broad details Frederica had given her were correct: Normandie would supply twenty thousand troops, under their own commanders of brigade-level and lower, the first to set sail no more than six weeks after signing of the treaty by the second signatory. They would obey Armorican orders without question, and return home no later than three months after the conclusion of hostilities. In exchange, no more than one year after the conclusion of hostilities Armorique would cede sovereignty over the entire island of Hispaniola up to Normandie and all citizens living there would swear loyalty to the King of Normandie and become Normans.

"But what if they don't want to?" asked Cinderella.

"Then they have a year to leave and go somewhere else," Frederica said. "To Louisiana, or back home to the old country. Or they can stay and find that the only change is a flag and where their taxes go."

Cinderella frowned. "I...I'm not sure that..."

"Hmm?"

"Never mind," Cinderella said. She had been about to say that she wasn't sure the government would approve, but then between them these people had left her without a government. As Princess Recent, exercising in full the powers and prerogatives of the king, have made this treaty on her own authority anyway, but she would have felt obliged to consult with the Kings ministers first. But the Kings ministers had abandoned her, and the opposition had fallen silent. Between them they had left Cinderella alone, and so alone she would do what she thought was best for Armorique.

She would take this offer, unleash the Normans, and help Eugene to win his war.

One of Cinderella's chamber maids, Constance, had lost her beau in this war, killed in Eugene's most recent victory. If Cinderella had a chance to lessen the number of Constances to come then she would take it.

They might even be home for Christmas.

"Where do I sign?" she asked.

* * *

Frederica pranced into her rented townhouse.

 _I did It! I did It!_

It had surprised her at first, as she left the palace with her treaty bearing the precious signature Cinderella of Rennes, Princess R alongside the royal seal of Armorique, that she didn't feel any more guilty about having put Cinderella in such a position; about having manipulated a friend that way.

As she thought about It, on the carriage ride back, Frederica had come to the conclusion that the reason she didn't was because, Well, she had nothing to feel guilty about. Not only had she quite possibly won Armorique war for it, she had also freed both Cinderella and herself from her father's dread command to compass Cinderella's death. Once had the sugar wealth of Hispaniola he would lose all the rancour he bore her for the loss of a marriage, and he would Frederica her failure to win Prince Eugene, too.

For a value of forgiveness that meant allowing her to stay in Brest where she felt more comfortable, anyway.

Her father never really forgave, but he did forget every so often.

However they had started out to one another, she really was Cinderella's friend. She was her friend, and she had done her a good turn today.

It was a turn that happened to have benefited herself as well.

Frederica swept, triumphant, into the parlour, ready to call for Anton to give him the good news. She stopped, dead in her tracks, when she saw an unfamiliar figure in a heavy coat warming his hands by the fire.

"Who are you?" Frederica demanded.

The stranger looked at her. He was an unremarkable looking man with a deeply unmemorable face. "Your highness, I am the new spymaster to your father, the King of Normandie."

"Thank you for reminding me who my father is, I'd quite forgotten," Frederica said. "Dare I ask what happened to the old spymaster?"

"A well deserved retirement to a farm, bestowed on him by a grateful sovereign."

"An actual farm, or a six foot of of earth?"

The new spymaster smiled like a crocodile.

Frederica grimaced. "I knew there was a reptile in there somewhere. What do you want?"

"To know why you've been failing to kill Princess Cinderella for the past six months."

Frederica was not so knew at this that she allowed any reaction to show on her face. "I don't know what you mean. As I have explained to my father my best efforts have been thwarted by Cinderella's bodyguard, one Jean Taurillion, a very fierce fellow."

"And the fact that you've been employing incompetent buffoons has nothing to do with it?"

"How competent was the first man who failed?"

The spymaster didn't answer that. "Why?"

"Why what?"

The spymaster stared at her.

Frederica sat down. "I admit nothing, save to say that if Cinderella were dead she would not have been able to sign this treaty granting Normandie the island of Hispaniola."

His eyes narrowed. "In exchange for what?"

"Soldiers for Armorique's American war." Frederica replied. She handed him the treaty. "Get this to my father, get his signature and seal upon it, and get the first troops underway. And don't ever come into my house uninvited to make accusations against me again, do you understand?"

"I understand that you seem to have done very well for Normandie."

"Of course I have," Frederica snapped. "I've done more with kindness than killing ever could."

And she had freed them both? Cinderella and herself.

Now to see Cinderella live long enough to enjoy it.


	37. Cinderella's Triumph

Cinderella's Triumph

By the time that Lord Roux finally returned to the palace to see Cinderella again he had been keeping her waiting for an unconscionably long time. Six weeks in point of fact. Already word had returned to Cinderella that Frederica's father, King Henry of Normandie, had signed the treaty that Frederica had made, and that the mustering of Norman troops for Louisiana had begun.

The fact that in the amount of time that he had spent keeping Cinderella in the dark with no visible indicator of any progress towards the formation of a new government Cinderella had, if she said so herself – and she was aware that at least some of this was her vanity talking, but at the same time she also felt that she had a right to feel a little proud of what she had done, especially if it bore the fruits of victory that Frederica promised – she had accomplished a diplomatic coup that might well help Eugene win his war, well…it made her just a little irked, to say the least. It might not be going too far to say that Cinderella was feeling just a bit peeved with him.

Cinderella shivered in her summer dress. She could not receive the new Premiere in her dressing gown as she had received Frederica, but she missed it nonetheless. Though the weather was fine and the sun was bright, still she felt cold on her bare arms, a cold to make her tremble even if it didn't raise goosebumps on her skin. And her white silk gloves looked very pretty and elegant, but did not warm her hands at all.

As Lord Roux shuffled with excruciating slowness into the royal study, Cinderella glanced down for a moment at her arms. So thin. Too think to wear any jewellery now, for fear it would emphasise how scrawny she was getting.

 _I need to rest,_ Cinderella admitted. She felt so weary it was all she could do to walk from her room to the palace. _I will rest, once this task is done._

 _I'll rest, and dream of Eugene's triumphant return._

Hopefully, Lord Roux's (eventual) return meant that things were about to get one step closer to the fulfilment of her plans.

Lord Roux approached the table at which Cinderella sat, but made no move to sit down himself.

He bowed his head. "Your Highness."

"My lord," Cinderella said, trying not to let any of her irritation with him into her voice. "Won't you please sit down?"

"I think not, highness, I do not expect to be here long."

"You don't?" Cinderella asked. She didn't understand why he thought this meeting would be quick, unless he didn't have very many names to get through and nothing to say about the law she wished put through the assembly. Such brevity might almost be refreshing, but it was not her experience of the way that politicians dealt with her, and if he had few names, well…had he not had enough time to gather all the names?

Cinderella gulped down some steaming hot tea, which had the virtue of clearing her throat for a moment like a dirty plate being washed clean by scalding hot water.

"My lord," she said. "Why don't you expect to be here long? Haven't you got all the names of your ministers to present for my approval?"

"Why would your highness think that I would have any names?"

Cinderella was rendered momentarily speechless. Even when she eventually found her voice, she found it stammering and hesitant from the shock. "Well…my lord, when last I saw you you had agreed to form a government-"

"With respect, highness, I said that I would endeavour to undertake to form a government. I did not definitely agree to undertake to form a government."

Cinderella felt like a drowning girl who, on being thrown a rope, had reached out for it only for the 'rope' to turn out to be a poisonous snake. "My lord…perhaps you had better tell me plainly what you mean."

"I am sorry, your highness, but I cannot form a government."

"You cannot?"

"There are…conflicts of personality that prevent it."

Cinderella's eyes widened. She felt…she felt livid to be perfectly honest. "You cannot form a government? My lord is there any reason why it took you so long to tell me this?"

"I have been endeavouring, your highness."

"You have been endeavouring for six weeks with no success?"

"I fear so, your highness."

Cinderella felt as though she might almost have been justified in screaming at him, but she contented herself with a very long sigh. "I take it that you are quite certain that it cannot be done."

"I am, your highness. Once again, I offer my apologies."

"I would sooner you offer me a list of names, my lord, I admit that I am very disappointed. I would have very much appreciated you letting me know much sooner."

"If I had come sooner, your highness, I would have advised you against the treaty that you have-"

"Please stop, my lord," Cinderella said sharply. Perhaps too sharply, but she couldn't help herself. It was too much. Far, far too much for him to turn up after six weeks of nothing and then presume to lecture her upon her conduct. "I have great confidence in the agreement made with Normandie to aid our soldiers. And besides, if you wished to influence my decision, my lord, you could have come sooner. Or sent me any word at all. Why didn't you reply to any of my messages?"

"I was very busy, highness."

"I see," Cinderella murmured. "Well…thank you for telling me this, my lord, but I am also very busy. As you predicted, this meeting is a short one. Goodbye."

He bowed his head. "Goodbye, your highness."

 _At least he didn't argue being dismissed,_ Cinderella thought, as she watched him leave.

 _What am I going to do now?_

Cinderella sent for His Grace, to council her on what she should – no, what she _could_ do about the constitutional impasse in which she suddenly found himself.

"I'm very sorry about the position in which you have been place, princess," he said, as he settled into his chair. "It is very unfortunate that things have turned out this way."

"Thank you, your grace, but I didn't ask you here so that you could be sympathetic," Cinderella said, quietly and a little hoarsely. She drank some more tea to clear her throat of phlegm for a moment. "I asked you to see me because I need your advice: what can I do now?"

His Grace was silent for a moment, pondering the question. "As far as I can see, princess, you have only two choices available to you: either dissolve the assembly and call an election-"

"But that will delay everything even further, by weeks more!" Cinderella protested. She frowned. "Forgive me, your grace, I should not have interrupted you."

"Quite alright, highness, I understand that you are impatient to see the tariff issue resolved," His Grace said easily. "In which case you might send for Sieur Robert and see if he is willing to resume the premiership."

"Really?"

"He has not been rejected by the Assembly or dismissed by your highness," His Grace said. "His having resigned of his own volition, there is no reason why he might not return. There is even precedent for it."

"I see," Cinderella murmured. "But…even if he did return, would he be willing to do what I wish of him? After all, he resigned rather than do it…are you saying that I should put aside what I know to be right?"

"No, princess, I am advising you that you might make the attempt. If Sieur Robert refuses, or if he is not willing to carry out the tasks that you wish of him…then you will have no choice at all."

"New elections," Cinderella said.

"Indeed, your highness."

Cinderella closed her eyes. She wasn't sure if she could keep doing this for however long it would take to organise and hold new elections, and then for to persuade whoever finally emerged on top to actually pass the law that she wanted them to put through. And considering that the winner would probably be one of the two men who were already on the field, how much chance was there of that?

Was it all hopeless? Could she see this through? There were times when it felt as through Grace's miracle concoction was the only thing still keeping her going.

 _I have to keep going. I made a promise to the people and they're relying on me to fulfil it. I have to keep going._

 _In which case…I don't really have a choice, do I?_

"Thank you, your grace," Cinderella said, as she picked up her pen and dipped it into the inkwell. "You've been very helpful."

"I am at your service, your highness."

"I know," Cinderella said. "And I'm very grateful."

She began to write to Sieur Robert.

Whatever his faults, at least he didn't keep her waiting for six weeks between her summoning him and his arrival. He sent word that he would call on her at two o'clock, and he was there promptly, in a frock coat and top hat which he swept off his head as he strode briskly into the study.

Cinderella was, she would confess to herself, a little nervous that he was going to be smug about this, or in some way lord over the fact that she had turned out to be unable to manage without him. He had a grave expression, but that might be hiding all manner of superiority behind it.

However, as he reached her desk he did not sit down. Rather he got down on one knee, not as a swain but as a subject, bowing his head to her, and overall hunching down so low that Cinderella had to lean forward to see him over the desk.

"Your highness, I offer you my most humble and sincere apologies."

Cinderella coughed. "Excuse me?"

"I…Princess Cinderella, I am truly sorry for all of the trouble to which I have put you this last month and more. I had no idea…if I had known…I have been an ass, and an ass who can only beg for your forgiveness."

Cinderella's eyebrows rose. Of all the things that she might possibly have expected, this was certainly not one of them.

"I…I'm sure that you did what you thought was right."

Sieur Robert laughed derisively, although Cinderella wasn't sure whether his derision was directed at her or at himself. "If I had done what I thought was right, highness, I would have taken your bill and pushed it through the assembly by any means, instead of shirking my duty and leaving you at…I confess I didn't realise that Lord Roux would behave in such a way but…the fault is mine, for abandoning you when you needed me.

"Your proposal is the right one. I knew that and, knowing that, I should have had the courage to do the right thing, as you did."

"Your party-"

"I entered politics to serve the throne, not the party," Sieur Robert declared. "It appears that somewhere along the way I forgot that. Now it is too late for anything but regrets."

"Not quite, Sieur Robert," Cinderella murmured. "If you will become Premier again, and consent to support the bill that I have written…"

Sieur Robert looked up at her. "You…your highness would have me back."

"I think the needs of the country and the people would be better served by an able minister than by an election at this stage, don't you?" Cinderella asked. "But if you are not willing to present my bill then-"

"I am," he said at once. "It will be my first order of business, I guarantee it." Sieur Robert rose to his feet, though he bowed to her once more as soon as he had done so. "Your highness, I will be your minister for so long as you should have need of me."

A sigh of relief escaped from Cinderella's lips. "I…I'm very grateful, of course I am, but…what caused you to change your mind?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Your treaty with the Normans," he admitted. "It was boldly done, your highness, I will confess. The sort of bold stroke that…I realised that I would not have dared to suggest such a course, or to defend it to my backbenchers. That is when I realised that I had become staid, timid, more of a party man than a statesman, too concerned with majorities than with the good of the country. You…you have shamed me to my duty, highness, and I thank you for that. Just as I commend you for governing the country single-handedly these last weeks."

Cinderella coughed. "Thank you, sir, I've done my best."

"You have done well," he said. "Although it seems…if you will let me take some of the weight from off your shoulders."

"I would appreciate that, very much," Cinderella murmured. "How long will it take you to form a government?"

"I will have the first names to you by this evening; they will be much the same as before, save for a few die-hards who will not go along with your plans."

"But it can be done?"

"The opposition were unable to form a government, but there will be enough of them in favour to carry this through, I think," Sieur Robert said. "I will get started right away."

"Thank you, Sieur Robert," Cinderella said. She snorted. "I…it's funny, well, not really but…after doing things…I suppose that I'm back to waiting now, aren't I? Waiting for Eugene, and now waiting for you."

"Perhaps, for a little while, your highness," he said. "But be under no illusions or doubts that this is your achievement, and yours alone. No one else can claim any credit for it, least of all me. If…when your bill becomes law, it will be solely your own triumph. And the whole kingdom will recognise that as well as I do."

* * *

That may be, but it still added up to more waiting for Cinderella. It was strange, the fact that she had so much to do and yet at the same time she seemed to spend so much of her time waiting. Waiting for news from Eugene, waiting for news of Eugene, waiting for the war to end; waiting for Lucien's awful stories to go away, waiting for her illness to go away and all the while wondering inside if either or both of them would linger to surround her forever; and now waiting for her free trade bill to progress through the assembly.

She was too ill to go and see it progress herself. Now that the wheels had been set in motion, Cinderella had finally taken the advice of her doctors and retired to her bed, where she sat up and read through the ministerial boxes or, when she was feeling too ill and her vision blurred when she tried to read, she asked Marinette to be a dear and read them to her while Cinderella tried to take it all in. She waited, trapped by her weakness in her own room, while her new premier – who was of course also the old premier – did battle in the legislature on her behalf.

Although she could not go to the assembly and sit in the gallery to hear the debates raging on, Cinderella was not uninformed of what was going on in the Assembly. If she had been as devoid of information as she had been during the six weeks of Lord Roux's prevarications she would have gone mad, but thankfully she was far from blind to the progress of events that she had set in motion. The course of the debates was reported in all the newspapers, as were the popular protests taking place in the city to concentrate the minds of the representatives – Cinderella was glad to see that they were peaceful protests, although she had written a small piece for the _Gazette_ urging that they should remain so – and Cinderella also sent her ladies-in-waiting down to the chamber to observe on her behalf, and tell her if anything interesting had occurred.

Angelique never went on her behalf, Cinderella didn't think that she would have enjoyed that very much, so the duty was split between Serena, Grace and Marinette. As whichever of the three went that day was gone for several hours, sometimes most of a whole day, that meant that the three who were left behind had to take up more duties on Cinderella's behalf. It was probably wrong of her to force them to do so much, and she certainly should have given some though to replacing the empty spaces in her household - Augustina had not been gone long, admittedly, but Theodora had been expelled months ago and Cinderella had done nothing about filling the gap that her departure had caused – but while she was too sick and too weak to do things then she was forced to reply upon the goodwill of her friends to do all the things that she could not: caring for the King, looking in on Philippe, attending the Assembly, even reading her papers sometimes.

Serena had suggested that she might go further than that. "You must rest," she had told Cinderella. "You must really and truly rest, and you cannot get the rest and recuperation you need while you insist on working even from your sickbed."

Cinderella smiled. "I'm ill, yes, but I'm not dying, Serena. I'm not made of glass either, that was my slipper. I can read and think and it won't kill me."

"It isn't making you any better," Serena said.

"When the law is passed then I'll retire the Summer Palace, as I told Angelique I would," Cinderella said. "The fresh air-"

"Won't do you any good if you shut yourself up reading out of these boxes all day," Serena pointed out.

Cinderella set down the document she was currently reading onto the pink blanket that covered her legs. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps this isn't helping, but what can I do? I'm the Princess Regent, and until His Majesty recovers or Eugene returns there is no one else who can do this."

Serena's eyes narrowed. "What if that didn't need to be the case?"

Cinderella frowned. "How…how can it not be the case, I-?"

"Obviously, you are the only woman in the kingdom at present who can make the important decisions, but what if you gave someone the authority to make…all the less important decisions for you?" Serena suggested. "You could, you know. All that you'd have to do is sign a piece of paper giving me – or whoever else you decided to repose your trust in – the authority to speak with your voice on certain small matters. Matters of the ordering of your household, the management of the palace, the right to decide what was and was not worth bothering you about in your delicate condition. A sort of gatekeeper, and a little bit of a steward as well."

"I…I'll consider it," Cinderella said. It certainly sounded like a nice idea, but at the same time it sounded like a terrible abrogation of her duty as well. This charge had been given to her while Eugene was away, how could she palm off whole swathes of it onto someone else. Wasn't it her responsibility to see it through, no matter what?

But, as she coughed, she had to admit it sounded very nice to reduce her workload considerably.

She considered it, but did not more than that as she read and heard reports of the battle for free trade raging in the assembly, how she was attacked by some and defended by others, how Monsieur Mordred protested loudly against her and her law, and how Sieur Robert defended her alongside many of those she had met in the Anti-Corn Law League.

And Cinderella heard the cheering of the crowd long before Marinette returned and told her that the bill had passed the Assembly and waited only for her ascent.

And, on the day that the document came before her for that same royal assent to become a law in truth, and strike down for the future all the harmful tariffs that raised the price of food beyond the reach of ordinary and hard-working men and women, Cinderella ready the complementary words that Sieur Robert had said of her as the passage through the Assembly was concluded:

 _In reference to our proposing these measures, I have no wish to rob any person of the credit which is justly due to him for them. But I may say that neither the gentlemen sitting on the benches opposite, nor myself, nor the gentlemen sitting round me—I say that neither of us are the parties who are strictly entitled to the merit. There has been a combination of parties, and that combination of parties together with the influence of the Government, has led to the ultimate success of the measures. But, Sir, there is a name which ought to be associated with the success of these measures: it is not the name of the noble Lord opposite, neither is it my name. Sir, the name which ought to be, and which will be associated with the success of these measures is the name of a lady who, acting, I believe, from motives of pure and unselfish compassion, adulterated only by the reason to perceive the wisdom of her cause, has pursued without fail this object in the face of all obstacle and objection, in the face moreover of all the slanders and obloquies that have been most unjustly poured upon her name—the name which ought to be and will be associated with the success of these measures is the name of Her Royal Highness Cinderella, Princess of Rennes. Without scruple, Sir, I attribute the success of these measures to her._

"You did it," Angelique said, as Cinderella signed the act into law. "You…you really did it."

Cinderella smiled. "You almost sound surprised."

"I…" Angelique looked away. "I wasn't sure you'd do it. When I first heard…I thought you just wanted to be admired for your virtues. I didn't think that you'd ever make real sacrifices to help others." She scowled. "I was kind of an idiot, as you may have worked out."

Cinderella chuckled, before she started to cough. "Nobody thinks your stupid, Angelique."

"I didn't say stupid, I said I was an idiot, which I was," Angelique replied. "Just because I'd never met anyone so…so good as you didn't mean that that kind of good didn't exist. I was a fool to doubt you. You've…you've proven right all of the faith that Jean had in you. That everybody had in you. You're the real thing."

"Am I? That's nice to hear, so long as it's a nice thing."

Angelique snorted. "Good point. You are…you're…you're excellent, that's what you are. You said you'd help, and you did. Nobody has the right to ask for anything more than that." She smiled. "God bless you, your royal highness."

Cinderella leaned back upon her pillow, a smile playing across her lips as her eyes closed.

 _It's done. I did it. I finally kept my promise from so long ago._

 _Now I can rest._

As she felt her mind drift away from her, Cinderella's soul was at peace, for she finally felt worthy of the crown that marriage had placed upon her head.


	38. A Coup Takes Shape

A Coup Takes Shape

Cinderella could feel herself slipping away.

It was as though, with her ambition fought and won, she no longer had the energy to keeping fighting against whatever was draining her strength, wasting her body, dragging her down.

She knew that she ought to fight, for Eugene…but he was so far away, and nobody knew when he might come home. He was so far away…and Cinderella didn't have the strength to fight any more.

She had retired fully to her bed by now, she saw practically no one. Sieur Robert sent her notes, in place of meetings, keeping her informed, asking for her to do certain things – although in consideration of her health he didn't ask for very much. She couldn't see Philippe, or His Majesty or…or anyone. Everything she did she did by proxy, sending Serena or Grace or Marinette or Angelique to visit people or visit things or do things for her. She sat in bed, or lay in bed.

She was too tired even to read. The words blurred in front of her, when she wasn't convulsed by coughing and sneezing and unable to keep her eyes open. Her head thundered like a storm, her joints ached, her throat ached. She couldn't read, she could hardly speak but in a hoarse whisper that others had to strain to hear. She lay in bed and tried to sleep.

Tried being the operative word. She was so tired and yet she couldn't sleep. Some nights she would lie in the dark, coughing, while her eyelids became heavier and heavier and her head became so light that it…it was as if she wasn't there at all. She found herself thinking strange thoughts, bizarre thoughts, thoughts out of dreams or…one night she slept a couple of hours and then woke up, still exhausted, thinking that she was a mouse and she carried on thinking that for hours until dawn dispelled the fantasy. Once, when Jean came to see her, she thought that he was Eugene and begged him for a kiss to prove that he still loved her, and understood that she had never meant to hurt.

Poor Jean had been so embarrassed about the whole thing, but Cinderella felt too wretched to feel embarrassment.

Every day or two Serena would bring up signing her powers over to someone she trusted, so that she could get a real rest and leave all stressful business in all other hands. Cinderella hadn't done it yet, not in two weeks of being asked, not because there weren't people that she trusted but because it felt wrong to offload all her duties onto someone else.

But she was beginning to feel, as she lay in bed assailed by wretchedness from every corner of her body, as though she was approaching the point at which she had no choice.

She was…failing. She could feel it. Every day she grew weaker, even Grace's concoction that had been the only thing to help or strengthen her no longer helped. If she ever became…soon, Cinderella feared that she would be unable to work, and then it would be too late.

It would have to be Serena or Grace. Marinette and Angelique were…she loved them both, but neither of them would be able to do what was required of them. Angelique had less education than Cinderella herself, and less time to catch up. Marinette lacked the necessary confidence. It would have to be either Serena or Grace.

Angelique seemed to think it was a bad idea. As often as Serena argued that Cinderella ought to sign over her authority, Angelique argued that she should not. Angelique…Augustina had advised Cinderella to trust her, and she did, but…was that why she was delaying? Was that why she hadn't signed yet? Because Angelique was advising her against it? Perhaps. Or perhaps it was just that Angelique was pushing at an open door, while Serena was trying to persuade Cinderella to do something that she didn't really want to do.

Either way, she had not yet signed over her authority…but it was hard to see how she could avoid doing so for much longer.

* * *

Serena poured a glass of brandy out of a crystal decanter. "I don't suppose you'll join me, Lady Tremaine?"

Lady Tremaine had shifted the leatherbound armchair backwards, so that she was shrouded in darkness and concealed from Serena's sight. She leaned forwards into the light, and the candles cast deep shadows upon every line of her face. "Very well, since you were so kind as to offer."

Serena poured another glass, and nudged it across the table. In the dining room of the de Montcalm town house, a great many of the great and good of Armorique were gathering, waiting for her, but she had thought it might be worthwhile to speak to Lady Tremaine in private first, and so she kept her other guests waiting while she conversed with Cinderella's stepmother in the drawing room. The fireplace was dark and cold, and only a few candles provided illumination in the night.

"Your stepdaughter has proven herself to be quite a nuisance," Serena observed. "More so than I think anyone anticipated." She took a sip from her glass of brandy, letting the fiery liquid burn her throat on the way down. "I don't suppose she got her backbone from you?"

"I wasn't especially aware that she had one," Lady Tremaine replied coolly. "Although…her father did spoil her, while he was alive; she was always accustomed to getting her own way. What you are attributing to strength of character is probably nothing more than the result of being overly-indulged as a child."

Serena chuckled. "I'm not sure that a mere spoiled brat would have been able to bear up this long under a relentless barrage of slander and derision."

"Well, I will credit Cinderella with a certain endurance," Lady Tremaine allowed. "It took a great deal to visibly effect her."

"I take it that it is true, what she says about you?" Serena asked. "You made her your servant, after her father died?"

Lady Tremaine's face was as implacable as a cliff, and conceded just as little. "I took care of the girl, after she was so tragically orphaned even though I had no moral obligation to do so. She was no relation of mine and yet I took care of her and raised her as my own daughter nonetheless. Was it so much to ask of her to do a few chores around the house in return?"

Serena chuckled some more. "Don't worry, Lady Tremaine, I'm not trying to make incriminate yourself. It's just that, as much as Cinderella's story explains why she was never seen in society until that fateful night of the royal ball…she's turned out to have a quite a talent for her exalted position, and I did wonder if, perhaps, you'd been hiding her away and grooming her for the very place in which she finds herself."

"If I were the monstrous machiavel that you have just described, then would I really be rotting away in seclusion, shunned by the royal family and ignored by all the rest?" Lady Tremaine asked. "Where are my rewards, for such a scheme? Where are the positions and marriages for my daughters, where is my royal favour?"

"Quite," Serena murmured, taking another sip. "Although, in that case, the question becomes: where does she get it from? I was hoping that, as her stepmother, you might have some insight into her mind as well as her past."

Lady Tremaine drank painfully slowly. "Even if I did know something that might help you, why would I share it with you?"

Serena tilted her head slightly to one side. "Have you any reason to love the stepdaughter who has slighted, slandered and ignored you? Have you any reason not to wish to see her fall?"

"I have no reason to help you achieve any of that," Lady Tremaine replied. Her eyes narrowed. "I remember you, Lady Serena. I remember that you have laughed at my daughters, mocked them for their clumsiness and their ill-favoured faces, sniggered at them and made sport of them. You, and the Lady Grace who works with you, you are no friends of mine. Why should I do anything to assist you?"

Serena fought to keep her face impassive. "I…yes, I don't deny it, I've made fun of Anastasia and Drizella. Not once, nor twice, but regularly. I'll likely do so again, if they give me cause. They deserved my mockery every time, and worse."

"But you expect me to thank you for it and do you a favour?"

"I expect you to think rationally about all of this," Serena said. "I could grant you the favours that Cinderella has denied you, when I am become this country's princess-"

Lady Tremaine's harsh laughter, lashing like a whip, cut her off in mid-sentence.

Serena felt her face start to go red. "Did something I said amuse you?"

"If that is your endeavour then I will take my leave of you, Lady Serena, for there is no part for me in such a foolish enterprise," Lady Tremaine said. She drained her glass. "Thank you for the brandy."

"And what the hell do you mean by that?" Serena demanded.

Lady Tremaine smirked. "I presume that my stepdaughter is still as guileless as I recall? Still as blind to hidden malice? Still as trusting?"

"Yes," Serena murmured, unsure of where the lady was going with this.

"You could bring Cinderella down," Lady Tremaine said, as he got up from her seat. "You could have killed her already if you wished to be so crude. Poison her meal, poison her wine, push her off her balcony and say she slipped and fell. That you have not done so tells me more about you than you wish to know of Cinderella."

Serena scowled. "I don't want to risk getting-"

"I'm not finished, child," Lady Tremaine declared in a tone that brooked no argument. She was looking down on Serena, like a schoolmistress detailing all the errors in Serena's construing of the _Aeneid_. "You could have done any of those things. But perhaps your more subtle methods will bear fruit. Perhaps Cinderella will die, perhaps Prince Eugene will put her aside…but what on earth makes you think that he would marry you afterwards? Why would he change his mind, having refused you once?"

Serena rose from her seat. Her hands balled up into fists by her sides. Her voice, when it came, trembled feebly. "His highness has no heir. Duty will compel him to take another wife. A better one."

Lady Tremaine stared at her for a moment. "Duty. I see. Thank you for inviting me here, Lady Serena, and for the nightcap; I think I had best be going now."

"You're running away?" Serena snapped. "You're running away and letting her win?"

Lady Tremaine turned her back upon Serena. "I have lost one game, true, and Cinderella has taken a rich prize as the spoil of victory. But I wagered very little, and could stand to lose a great deal more if I foolishly sought to play again."

"The rewards of victory-"

"Will prove as insubstantial as smoke, I'm sure," Lady Tremaine said, as she walked towards the door. "You're hopes, no matter what you achieve, will all be in vain. Good night, Lady Serena."

Serena scowled at Lady Tremaine's retreating back as she left, and closed the door behind her.

"You're wrong," she declared to the closed door. "You're wrong," she repeated. Yes, Prince Eugene thought himself infatuated with Cinderella, but now that she had been exposed as a slut – there were times when Serena had trouble remembering that it was all a tissue of lies, that there had been no affair with Lucien – surely he would see reason. He would put his unsuitable wife aside, one way or another, and take another wife. A suitable wife, a woman of good family who knew her place, who would bear him sons to follow in his footsteps.

A wife just like her.

With Cinderella gone, what other choice would he have?

If Lady Tremaine was too foolish to spot the advantages that might accrue from allying herself to Serena's cause now…more fool her.

She heard the door into the dining room open behind her, but she didn't turn around. She felt Anatole wrap his arms around her.

"Serena," he whispered into her ear. "Everyone's waiting for you."

She looked downwards. "I'll be there in a moment."

His grip around her waist tightened, not painfully but reassuringly, protectively. No one would ever hurt her while her brother was with her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Do you think this is foolish?"

"You know what I think," Anatole said softly, his voice a caress upon her skin. "I think it was enough to use her, to manipulate her, to wring advantages from her. Destroying her…"

"You don't think he'll choose me?" Serena asked. "When she's out of the way, somehow…you don't think he'll take me instead?"

"I think we can't choose who we love," Anatole said. "And once love is gone…we cannot force it to return."

"Not even for duty's sake?"

"If Prince Eugene gave a damn about duty would he ever have wed a scullery maid in the first place?"

Serena's face became screwed up in a scowl, as though she was in great pain. The pain, such as it was, was all in her heart. "I have to have him."

"Because you love him?" Anatole asked, sounding half-amused and half jealous.

Serena snorted. "You're the only man with a claim upon my heart."

"Then why?"

"Because I deserve him," Serena said. "I deserve all the best things in life. In all the world, the very best of everything…I deserve it all. Will you help me get it?"

Anatole kissed her on the cheek. "Do you even need to ask?" He took his arms away. "Come on, everyone's waiting."

He took her by the hand and led her into a dining hall crowded with guests. Lucien was there, their house-guest of several weeks, kept securely against the vengeance of Cinderella's supporters; and also kept against the hazard that his sister might get to him and prick his conscience sufficiently to retract his allegations. Lucien lounged against one wall, looking surprisingly comfortable and indeed confident for a man in his position. Of course, once one realised that Serena had promised that he would get Cinderella for good once Eugene had no more use or need for her then his comfort and indeed his confidence became a lot easier to explain.

 _He probably still thinks he's rescuing her, the little fool_ , Serena thought as she drew nearer to him. Over the weeks of his confinement, and of his separation from Cinderella, a lot of his delusions had reasserted themselves stronger than ever before. At first, after his rejection, he had been both angry and shaken; he had raged against Cinderella's infidelity towards him, he had flung curses and insults in her direction, he had happily spun lies to the press in order to get back at her for the way that she had led him on and then publicly humiliated him. But estrangement had softened his affections towards her, and now he talked only of sweet Cinderella, of gentle Cinderella, of his lovely and faithful Cinderella and of his need to get her away from the wicked counsellors who poisoned her against him.

 _He hasn't seen her since she was taken severely ill; even if there were signs before, he has no idea…will he still loves her when he sees the living corpse lying in her bed?_

It would almost be amusing to get him into her room just to find out.

Also present was Monsieur Mordred, a deputy of the assembly who had led the opposition to Cinderella's free trade bill. He had failed to prevent it, but he didn't seem to be taking his failure in good spirits. Serena had, with her own ears, heard him calling several times for the death of the viper at the royal breast, the traitor to the throne. If there was anyone who would appreciate the need for action it was him.

 _And that was precisely why I said we needed to let Cinderella carry this through. It has concentrated minds wonderfully._

Grace stood at the head of the room, hands clasped in front of her, smiling beatifically at the gathered assembly.

 _I'm watching you. Never doubt that._

Serena let go of Anatole's hand as she reached the top of the room, and turned to face the crowd. There were lords present, and their lady wives, and deputies of the assembly and minor gentry come in from their estates. All come together for this meeting, to discuss the dark business that would need to be undertaken to save Armorique from its own princess before she tore down every last brick of the aristocratic settlement and shattered their power and their prestige beyond all hope of recovery or recall.

They were here to discuss what they could do about Cinderella.

"Good evening, friends, and thank you so much for coming," Serena said. Such an introduction was her sole concession to pleasantry, as she saw no reason in holding back from why they were all here. "When His Royal Highness Prince Eugene announced his intention to marry a girl of no particular note or family, a woman who had been employed as a maid for the latter half of her life…many of us were puzzled by the decision, some of us were offended to be passed over in favour of one so manifestly unworthy of the honour, but I think I can safely say that none of us really felt threatened by it. We raised our eyebrows, and then we dismissed the whole business as a prince's folly, a personal mistake, one that he would doubtless live to regret but which would not threaten the stability of the realm or our own interests.

"That, it has now become clear, was a grave mistake.

"It has become increasingly clear, and we received the final proof just yesterday, that Cinderella is nothing less than hell-bent upon the overturning of the established order and system that keeps this realm peaceful and prosperous. She aims at nothing less than the ascension of a revolutionary new order, in which fat-bellied manufacturers and parvenu industrialists will hold the whip-hand over us, backed by the hordes that they have dredged up from the streets. Make no mistake, my friends, there is a revolution building out there, amidst our very own city, and it is led and abetted by none other than she who ought to be as a bastion of order and good government, our very own princess, and more than princess but Princess Regent!

"She who has been granted all the laurels and the powers of the sovereign himself abuses those powers to tear down we upon whom the majesty of throne and kingdom rests! She who ought to embody all feminine grace and gentleness appeals to violent mobs of hard-handed labourers to threaten the gentle classes of the state with savage violence. She who ought to spread thoughtless delight and sweet joy throughout the world now bears down upon us with oppressive thoughts to spoil our summers. Truly I say that she is a false princess and she means to corrupt and destroy all that is good about fair proud Armorique. If she is not stopped then like the Roman I see the river Tiber foaming with much blood.

"And yet," Serena said. "All hope is not lost. Ancient writers tell us how the Athenians, returning to their city after it had been sacked by the hordes of Persia found, growing amidst all the burning and the devastation, the sacred olive trees, the symbols of their country. So today we may find, amidst our crumbling glory and our trembling circumstances, the roots of our sacred trees yet growing strong to meet the spring. I speak of all of you, brave patriots gathered to admit what lesser men deny with their heads even as their hearts know it to be true: that Cinderella must be stopped or Armorique will be lost to us."

Grace started clapping. "Bravo! Bravo! But what are we to do? For Cinderella is a witch, and she has ensorcelled Prince Eugene to render him blind to her machinations. If we destroy her, and our known to have destroyed her, then when Prince Eugene returns with his army his vengeance upon us will be terrible indeed."

"That is why we must use guile, Grace, and cunning," Serena declared. "Together, Grace and I are halfway to controlling all access to the Princess Regent. My brother Anatole, known to you all, controls access to the King through his office as Groom of the Stool. Soon, I believe, I can persuade Cinderella to grant to me – or else to Grace – the ability to order her household and even manage the palace in her infirmity. With this power, all access to the Princess Regent and the King shall come through me and my power. And what shall we do with this power but to undo all the damage that Cinderella has wrought and grind down the poor in her name, for who shall deny that we speak in her name when none can see her without our leave?"

"And then?" Lucien asked. "How will Cinderella be freed from her captivity?"

 _For God's sake can't you try and sound like you're on the same side as the rest of us?_ Serena thought. "Eventually, when all of her reforms are reversed, or when it seems likely that Prince Eugene is soon to return, Cinderella will be reported dead," she explained. "The whole kingdom knows that she is gravely ill." The deluded crowds were attending mass and vigil to pray for her health, as though God would smile his mercy down on someone like her. "But, since I have no desire to become a murderer, she will not die but rather be smuggled out and into your charge, to keep her safely out of the public eye for the remainder of her life." It would be simpler to just kill her, of course, but unless she obligingly died of her illness – or Prince Eugene sent some sign that he intended to get rid of her as punishment for her adultery – Serena did not really wish to actually take her life.

Would she, if she had to…perhaps. It wasn't something she wanted on her hands, but ultimately she didn't care one whit about pleasing Lucien or giving him what he wanted.

Cinderella would be defeated, the proper order would be restored and she, Serena du Montcalm, would sit upon the throne of Armorique.

That was all that mattered.

* * *

Grace laid one hand upon Anatole's chest, and smiled as she felt the hair that coated his rugged muscles like the grass that covered a rock face.

 _He is handsome and strong, and they have a claim upon the throne. He would make a very good king, I think. A handsome king, to go along with a beautiful queen._

"I think it went very well, tonight," she said. "Your sister spoke very well."

Anatole made a noise of agreement. "Serena's always been a smooth talker." He put one hand upon her back. She could feel him tracing the outline of her spine with his fingers. "You certainly provided fulsome support to her."

Grace giggled. "I've always been a very good follower. Nobody has ever had any reason to suspect me of any disloyalty. Cinderella does not, and neither does Serena."

Anatole smirked. "A suspicious man might wonder if there is something amiss in you comparing my sister to the mistress you are both betraying?"

Grace looked up at him, with eyes wide and innocent. "Do you not find them very similar, in certain ways?"

"There are certain common features, to be sure," Anatole murmured.

"Like they're both being betrayed by the both of us," Grace whispered.

Anatole smiled, but his voice contained a hint of wariness. "Is it safe to talk about such things here?"

Grace chuckled. "Don't worry. The walls may have ears, but Morningstar keeps them all at bay. Nobody is listening to us now."

"But the time will come when the world will hear us both," he said, not a question but rather a declaration, a statement of certain intent. That was what she had found, when she had looked for a way to prise him apart from his sister, to make him her instrument against even Serena's interest: she had found a man who squandered his wealth and his talents on whores and drink and card games with dissolutes like Lucien Gerard because he felt that he could never compete against his sister…and she had found a man who yearned to outshine her nonetheless, to be his own man and not just her ally. She had found a man of ambition, who would do much to see his ambitions realised. Even turn against his sister. Even kill the King who was in his charge, and the princess, and the little bastard boy as well.

She rolled over onto her back. "Yes. Soon they will hear us loud and clear." She could see it all in her minds eye: she would let Serena play out her plans for now, to seize power by abuse of the gatekeeping role to isolate and effectively imprison Cinderella and His Majesty both, and then…and then they would all be cleared off the board. So sad, so tragic; such a beautiful princess, such a shame that she died so young…wasn't it terrible, the way that madman was able to get into her room and kill her in a jealous rage; but then what could you expect when she put her security in the hands of a peasant. And then to lose His Majesty too…so terrible. Getting rid of Prince Eugene would be the hardest, of course…or it would be, if it were not for the power at her command. As it was even he might succumb, to grief or the peril of winds and waters; and from such tragedies…even the most unexpected people could rise to the fore.

In times of turmoil even those who seemed so quiet and so unassuming might show themselves to be possessed of so much vigour and cruelty that the world would marvel at it.

Anatole turned onto his side, and ran his fingers down the pearls around her neck, down to the large sapphire that hung at the bottom of her necklace, not far from her cleavage. "That's a pretty necklace."

Grace smiled. "It's one of Cinderella's."

"Does she mind that you have it?"

"Of course not. She wouldn't mind normally, and now…now she doesn't mind that I loot half her jewellery box, since she can't wear it herself. She's a very kind girl."

"Does that bother you?" Anatole asked.

"No. Why should it?"

"I wondered if it made you feel guilty," Anatole replied.

Grace snorted. "Do you feel guilty?"

"No," Anatole said. "The strong take what they will, and the weak suffer what they must."

"Indeed," Grace murmured. "That's Cinderella's problem, really. She pretends to be one of the strong, she aspires to be…but she isn't really. And that's why we'll take everything she has."

"Soon?"

"Yes," Grace said. "Very soon."

* * *

Angelique crouched down on one knee, looking down on the little mouse in a red jacket standing in front of her. "So what you're saying is that Grace knows you're there."

Jaq nodded. "Not sure how, but she knows. Cat-cat knows as well, that's why he always makin' noise and tryin' to get us. Can't hear nothin' from Gracie with all that goin' on."

"I see," Angelique murmured, which probably made her sound a good deal more certain than she felt right now. Grace could hear the mice as well? Grace? That was…surprising. She had thought of Grace as being Serena's toady but…what if she was more.

What she certainly was was a nuisance if Jaq was telling her the truth. She and Serena only spoke in her room, with that cat on guard, making it impossible for Cinderella's mouse friends to properly listen in.

They were plotting something, Angelique was absolutely sure of that. She was almost absolutely sure that it had something to do with Cinderella handing over her authority to them, which was a bad idea if ever Angelique had heard one. It reminded her one of those plays that Serena had had put on before Cinderella when Prince Eugene first went away, about a king who gives up all of his powers to his daughters only for them to throw him out of the house to rot in a field somewhere. Or she thought that was what was going on, it was a little hard to follow the language.

Anyway, Cinderella giving up her power to Serena or Grace was a very bad idea, as Angelique told her at every opportunity. She half thought that if only Serena had left well enough alone Cinderella would have gotten sick of Angelique by now, but at the moment the two of them seemed to be balancing each other out, resulting in apathy. If she could only keep it that way until…

Until what? Ideally, until she could find something on Serena or Grace or whoever to expose them for what they really were. But that…obviously Jaq and his mice weren't going to get the proof that Cinderella would need to be convinced.

"We sorry, Angelicky," Jaq said. "We tried our best but-"

"Don't get downhearted over it," Angelique said. "You've done really well, all of you."

Jaq looked sceptical. "We have?"

"Yes," Angelique said. "You've told me that something's up with Grace, and that she has something hide."

"But we not know what she hidin'," Jaq pointed out.

"True," Angelique allowed. "But I'll find out. Let me take it from here."

* * *

Now, when Angelique said that she would take it from there she did not, on this occasion, mean that she would take it anywhere by herself. Although she had been loath to involve Jean in her intriguing thus far, the required action – breaking into Grace's room while she wasn't there, ferreting out her secrets, and then escaping again without getting caught (for if she was caught then Angelique had no doubt that Cinderella, in her gentle-hearted fashion would be full of wrath with her about it) – would also require her to obtain his assistance to carry it off. Thankfully he wasn't in the least bit squeamish about helping her out when she asked him too, and so that afternoon, when Grace was visiting the Assembly on an errand for Cinderella and Grace's cat was stuffed into a box by Angelique to get him out of the way, Jean stood in the doorway of Grace's room ready to shout out if he saw anyone coming, while Angelique herself rummaged through the room proper.

"I never thought to find myself doing this again," Jean murmured, as he leaned upon the door frame. "I must confess, I though the days of keeping lookout where over."

"I'm sorry," Angelique said, as she lifted up Grace's pillows and found nothing. "This really is necessary, I promise."

"You think that Lady Grace is plotting against the princess?"

"I know that she's up to something."

"How?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Angelique muttered, as she tossed Grace's sheets. _Where is it? Where could the proof be? There must be something, somewhere._

"I'd believe anything you told me, Angelique," Jean said, in tones of slight reproach.

Angelique straightened up, one eyebrow rising for all that Jean was unable to see it. "A mouse in a red jacket and shoes told me."

She had expected Jean to miss a beat, but in fact he only paused for half a one at best before he said, "You should have told me you were making new friends."

Angelique snorted. "I love you sometimes."

"I love you always, Angelique."

Angelique felt her lips curling upwards, as a flush rose to her cheeks. "Yes, well…I need to get back to work. If you were going to hide something in here, where would you…" she flung open the doors of Grace's wardrobe, but there was nothing there but the expected dresses and shoes. "I thought for sure it would be in here." She stepped back with a frown and a heavy tread.

"Perhaps-"

"Hang on a moment," Angelique said, as she tapped her foot once, twice, three times. "I think this floorboard is hollow. There's no one coming is there?"

"No," Jean said.

"Then shut the door and help me with this," Angelique said, getting down and starting to pry up the offendingly hollow floorboard.

Jean shut the door, and wedged it for good measure, before he joined her in lifting up the floorboard which parted, with a creak and a crack, from the rest of the bedroom floor.

Together, they peered into the hollow within.

"What in Heaven's name?" Jean muttered.

"I don't think Heaven has anything to do with it," Angelique replied.

Concealed within the hollow in the floor was a wooden board, upon which someone had carved out a pentagram with a knife. In the centre of that selfsame pentagram, someone had also set a pair of Cinderella's pearl earrings; the small, round pearl earrings that she had been wont to wear more than any others prior to becoming ill, and which had turned out to be missing along with many other items around the time that Lucien had begun stealing from the princess.

"Did you find those with the rest of the stuff Lucien Gerard had stolen?" Angelique asked.

"No," Jean said. "I assumed that he had pawned or sold them already."

At the head of the pentagram sat the skull of a ram, with two long horns curving around and seeming to point at Cinderella's earrings, even as the skull itself seemed to grin wickedly up at them through empty eye-sockets. Upon the other angles of the pentagram sat burning candles, half-formed things dripping wax, glowing with green fire.

Jean glanced at Angelique. "Is this proof of anything?"

"It's proof of something, but I don't know if it's proof that I can take to Cinderella," Angelique said. "I could say that Grace stole her earrings, but Grace would just say she borrowed them and forgot to give them back, and Cinderella would give her the benefit of the doubt." _It's sometimes hard work serving someone so kind and merciful._

She lifted the pentagram board out of its hollow and blew upon the green candles. Somewhat to her surprise, they didn't go out, not even when she blew on them again.

"I tell you what Jean," Angelique said. "I reckon that we might have found something just a little more valuable than proof."

Jean frowned. "I don't understand."

Angelique dropped the board on a floor with a thud. Not content with that, she smashed it against the floor again and again until the wood splintered, under the hideous goat's skull was ground into dust, and the green candles were extinguished as they were turned to nothing but flecks of wax.

Angelique picked up the pearl earrings off the floor even as she swept the rest of the debris into the hollow.

"I think I might check up on Cinderella," she observed, as though nothing untoward had just occurred.


	39. The Power of Hope

The Power of Hope

Though she was at a loss to explain how it had suddenly happened, Cinderella woke up in the morning feeling suddenly much improved.

That wasn't to say that she suddenly felt perfect, fully restored to the health that she had enjoyed before Eugene went away and everything had snowballed on top of her; she still had a bit of a cough, and her throat felt hoarse, but compared to the abyss of infirmity in which she had been languishing as late as last night it felt like a miraculously pronounced improvement. Her cough was more mild, and it seemed – on the basis of the hour or so in which she had lain awake – much less frequent too. It no longer rattled her chest. She no longer felt as though she was being crushed by a great weight that squeezed the air out of her lungs, she no longer felt as though it was impossible to breath. Indeed she could breathe easily now, without making a whistling sound as tried to force some air down her constricted throat.

Cinderella felt as though she was quite definitely on the mend.

She tried to get out of bed, only to suddenly become light-headed as soon as she stood up. She wobbled on legs that felt weak, her whole body felt weak, and she flopped back onto her bed, reminded that just because she felt better it didn't magically wipe away the consequences of all the illness that had afflicted her.

Still, she was feeling better and that was a wonderful start. Now she could recover her strength and then…

And then…

And then go back to working herself to the bone until she made herself ill again. That seemed a somewhat less than enticing prospect and yet what other choice did she have? This was her duty, until Eugene returned. She was the Princess Regent, she couldn't not do the work.

But perhaps, just perhaps, she could find a way to do it a little more sensibly this time, and without taking quite so much of a toll on herself.

If she could find some way to be rid of the stress that Lucien's behaviour had been placing upon her that would be a great weight off both her mind and shoulders, too.

 _Please come home soon, Eugene. Come home so that we can do this together._

Cinderella reached out, her hand still trembled just a little, pulled upon the bellpull beside her bed. She meant to summon someone to bring her something to eat; she didn't intend to get up today – she was not well enough for that, and Cinderella didn't intend to push her luck – but she was very hungry, and her stomach felt as though it was settled enough that she could eat without vomiting.

She rang the bellpull, but she heard no sound. That was strange. Duchamp and her chambermaids were not so far below that she couldn't hear an echo of the bell ringing, even if was only a dim sound back up in Cinderella's room. Still, she didn't remember ever hearing nothing before.

Maybe her illness had made her a little deaf. Or maybe there was something wrong with the bell.

Cinderella leaned back against her pillow. She would find out soon enough. It wouldn't be long until someone came to check on her. Someone always came quite early in the morning.

Serena arrived not long after, or it didn't seem particularly long to Cinderella where she sat in bed, and she admitted that she might have dozed off while waiting. She hadn't been getting a lot of sleep lately. In any case, Serena was the first person to come in, and Grace followed after her, carrying a bowl of soup in her hands. They both smiled beatifically down at Cinderella like a pair of guardian angels as they stood by the side of her mind.

"Good morning, Cinderella," Serena said, with subdued good cheer. "Did you sleep well? How are you feeling?"

Cinderella smiled. "Oh, I'm feeling so much better, Serena, it's like a miracle."

"A miracle?" Grace asked. She was blinking furiously, with a confused expression on her face as though she couldn't quite comprehend Cinderella's words. "You…really? You're feeling…better?"

"Yes, it's bizarre isn't it?" Cinderella said. "Bizarre and wonderful at the same time." She coughed into her hand. "That's not to say that I'm completely well again, I think I still need to rest, but I feel so much better than I did. Hopefully I can only get better from here."

"Well, if you want to recover completely, you'd best eat up," Grace said, holding out the bowl of soup. "I just made it especially for you."

Cinderella gratefully took the bowl, placing a spoonful of the thick green soup into her mouth…and spitting it out again almost as quickly. "Oh my goodness, Grace! What have you done to this? What happened to your family recipe?"

"I haven't done anything," Grace said. "It…it's exactly the same as I always make for you."

"Then why does it taste so different?" Cinderella asked. "This taste foul."

"That…that's probably…well, you know being ill does effect your tastebuds. Things taste differently when your sick. I'm sure that this is what it naturally tastes like," Grace said. "But you should eat it anyway, you know how foul medicine can be good for you. You wouldn't want to get ill again now that you're finally starting to mend, would you?"

"I suppose not," Cinderella murmured, although Grace's broth tasted so sickly today that she wondered whether she would have the fortitude to actually swallow it.

"It's wonderful that you're starting to mend, Cinderella," Serena said. "Truly wonderful, we've all been praying for your recovery ever since you were taken ill, but as Grace said you're not out of the woods yet, and you might come down with a second assault any day. So I think it's important that you still considering signing away-"

"I know what you're going to say, Serena," Cinderella said gently. "And I might have done it. I certainly would have thought about it. But now, I'm afraid that I don't see the need any more."

"You're still not completely recovered," Serena pointed out.

"I know," Cinderella replied. "But I'm feeling so much better than I have in a long time, I just don't think it's necessary to put any more burdens upon you now that my strength is returning."

"We don't mind!" Serena squawked.

"I know," Cinderella said. "You're both so good, you've been such a help to me, but I'm hopeful now that I'll keep getting better and I'll be able to start doing more things for myself again very soon."

"And if you get worse instead of better?" Serena asked.

"Then we can come back to your idea then, when it's appropriate," Cinderella said softly.

Serena looked as though she wanted to say more, but in the end she just smiled. "Of course. You know best, I'm sure. Well, we'd better let you get some rest, because you still need it."

"Try to eat your soup," Grace said.

"And ring if you need us," Serena said.

Cinderella nodded. "Of course. Um, do you know if there's anything wrong with the bell pull? I tried to ring but I couldn't hear anything, and nobody answered."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with it," Serena said slowly. "And as for no one answering, I'm afraid Duchamp has gotten terribly lazy during your infirmity. I'll go give her a kick to make sure she's on the job."

"Please don't be unkind to her," Cinderella said. "She's been so kind and helpful to me, ever since I arrived." She found it hard to believe that Duchamp would suddenly take the opportunity to become lazy and inattentive, since Duchamp had always been so dutiful before.

She would rather believe there was something wrong with the bell pull, except that would mean that she was marooned up here.

She would still rather that than find that Duchamp had also been deceiving her just like Lucien and Theodora before him. After all, it wasn't as though no one would check up on her just because the bell pull was broken. She would rather have Duchamp's loyalty and good service than a convenient way of summoning help.

She watched them go, Serena and Grace, squeezing past Grace's muscular bodyguard and closing the door behind themselves. It was only then that Cinderella noticed that Michelle wasn't here. That was strange…but ultimately not terribly important. She would turn up before long, Cinderella was sure.

Cinderella stared at Grace's soup, and tried to contemplate eating it all.

* * *

"How on earth did she-" Serena began.

"Wait!" Grace snapped, holding up one hand to silence Serena as she swept down the stairs towards her room.

"Don't you shush me, Grace du-"

"In a minute!" Grace said, as she strode into her room, slammed the door behind her, and locked it. "Morningstar!"

Her black cat stalked out from under the bed, green eyes a gleaming. "Yes, mistress?"

"What's the latest from the mice?"

"I haven't heard or smelt them sniffing around for a few days, to be honest. They seem to have given up. Mistress, what's wrong?"

"Cinderella is getting better. She's on the road to a full recovery, and now the broth tastes vile to her."

Morningstar cocked his head to one side. "Forgive me, mistress, but doesn't the hex you placed on her make the soup taste-"

"Yes, I know she's supposed to find it delicious, thank you for reminding me," Grace growled. "I know my own spell." She knelt down, and pulled up the floorboard where she had hidden the hex board driving the curse that was leeching away Cinderella's strength.

Or, to be precise, the hex board that had been driving the curse before someone had smashed it to pieces.

 _And I know exactly who it was._

"Morningstar?"

Morningstar must have heard the anger in her tone, because his own voice tremble. "Y-yes, mistress?"

"Where were you yesterday?"

"I was, um, I was, I-I think I was chasing mice."

"Where?"

"Down…downstairs."

"You idiot!" Grace snarled. "You complete and utter fool, you useless feline! While you were chasing mice somewhere completely irrelevant, Angelique snuck in her and broke the curse! That's why Cinderella is better, that's why she can't stomach my soup, the poison won't even work on her now! Everything is ruined because you let me down!"

"Mistress, please, have mercy on me," Morningstar fawned. "Don't put a hex on me instead, I-I mean…I…can't you just curse her again."

"Prince Eugene might have returned by the time that she gets that sick again," Grace spat. "And besides, the little rat has stolen the earrings that I…stole from Cinderella, and probably everything else of hers in here as well." She hadn't searched the whole room yet, but she would have been surprised if Angelique had left anything behind, even if she didn't know why it was important.

A curse, like the one that she had cast upon Cinderella, required something of the victim in order to focus. Cinderella's pearl earrings were ideal because she wore them so often, and thus they felt very strong hers in a way that some of her jewellery, that she wore more occasionally, did not. There was a chance that a second curse might not even work with something less personal.

"So, uh, so what will you do now, mistress?"

Grace took a deep breath. "I suppose I will just have to talk to Serena, get her onboard, and then we can carry out the auxiliary plan."

"There's an auxiliary plan?"

"Oh yes, it's quite simple," Grace said. "If Cinderella won't give us what we want, then we'll just have to take it."

* * *

First Cinderella heard the tramp, tramp, tramp of marching feet outside, the clip-clop of the hooves of horses and the shouting of voices. It all seemed to be going on outside, and she half-thought to go to the balcony and see if she could see what was going on. But she had been so unsteady on her feet that, frankly, she was afraid that she might have an accident if she got out onto the balcony in her present condition. So she rang the bell, and hoped that someone would come and tell her what was going on. But she couldn't hear the bell, and no one came.

Then she heard the sounds of shouting getting louder, and they seemed to be coming from inside the palace. In fact, the yelling and shouting seemed even to be rising up her tower, and Cinderella could hear other sounds as well, sounds that sounded a lot like…a lot like the clashing of swords, that she had heard once or twice when Eugene had been practicing his fencing out in the yard.

She rang, but this time it was almost a perfunctory gesture, done out of force of habit. She had accepted – even if she didn't understand how or why – that nobody could hear her and nobody would come to answer the call they could not hear.

Cinderella got up, slightly unsteadily, and kept one hand on the wall as she opened her bedroom door.

Her guard, Rollo, blocked the doorway with his immense and muscular frame. Strangely he was facing inward, so that when Cinderella opened the door she was confronted with his lower chest. Looking up she could see that he was hunching over to look down at her.

"Excuse me," Cinderella said softly. "Do you know what's going on downstairs?"

Rollo said nothing. He stared at her as though she were a fly.

Cinderella blinked. With the door open, she could hear more clearly the sounds of fighting. She even thought – though she hoped not – that she might have heard a gun go off.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Please, do you know anything at all?"

Rollo said nothing. His expression did not change in the least.

"Please move aside," Cinderella said. "I-I need to find out what's happening."

Rollo didn't move. He didn't refuse to move, he didn't tell her why he couldn't let her out he just didn't move. It was as though her request wasn't important to him at all.

"Move aside," Cinderella repeated. "Please move aside, I need see, I…I-I command it."

A royal command had no more effect on Rollo than a courteous request. He did not move.

Cinderella took a step backwards into her room. "What…what's happening? What's going on? You must know something, tell me!"

"Your Highness!" Michelle's voice came from behind Rollo, a moment before he stepped aside – for her, he stepped aside – to admit her into the room, at which point he resumed the function of a vault door, or a rock blocking a cave. Michelle walked in briskly. "Your highness, what are you doing out of bed? You should be resting?"

"Michelle, what's happening downstairs?" Cinderella demanded. She coughed. "I can hear…it sounds as though someone is fighting down there."

Michelle smiled. "You just get back into bed, ma'am, and don't worry your pretty little head about a thing. Lady Serena and Lady Grace have everything well in hand."

"Have what in hand?" Cinderella asked.

"The restoration of good government, ma'am," Michelle said plainly. "Now, if you'd like to get back into bed."

She put one hand on Cinderella's arm to guide her, but Cinderella shrugged off her grip.

"Michelle, what do you mean? What is going on?"

"If you'll just get into bed-"

"No, I will not get back into bed until someone tells me what is going on!" Cinderella snapped. "Who is fighting down below?"

Michelle grabbed Cinderella so hard it was physically painful. "Get into bed, ma'am, it's for your own good."

Cinderella winced in pain. "Michelle? What are you doing, you're hurting me!"

"I'm just doing my job, ma'am."

"Your job?"

"I serve the Lady Serena, princess," Michelle declared, as she forcefully manhandled Cinderella onto her bed. "And she commands that you should stay right here, until the crisis is over."

"Serena?" Cinderella gasped. She shook her head. "No, no that can't possibly…" _Serena is my friend, she wouldn't._

 _Lucien was my friend._

 _Theodora was my friend._

 _Oh, God, I'm such an idiot._

Was this how it was going to be? Would everyone she had trusted betray her one after another? After this would it be Marinette, and then Jean and Angelique after that? Had she not one true friend in the entire world?

 _Trust Angelique._ That was what Augustina had said, before she left. She had told her to trust Angelique, and by implication not to trust others so much. Angelique had sought out the truth for her, had tried to protect her; Jean had saved her life; Marinette had turned her back on her family for Cinderella's sake. What had Serena or Grace done? Flattered her? What had Lucien done but take from her? What had Theodora done but exploit Cinderella's willingness to have friends for the first time in her life.

 _The fault…my fault was not in trusting, but in trusting too widely._

 _I have to believe that._

 _I do believe that._

 _If that isn't true…if that isn't true then I am truly lost._

 _It is true. It is. Angelique, Marinette, Jean…if they wanted to betray me then they could have done it by now. Serena and Grace…if they are false to me as well then…then I have been very foolish beyond doubt. Foolish and naïve and…and it does not mean that all my friends are false._

 _Although it seems that some of them might be._

Cinderella glanced at Michelle, who looked down on her with a pitiless expression.

She stayed that way, upon her bed and under guard, for a little while as the disturbing sounds continued below, until the door opened again and Serena and Grace swept in. Grace had her hands clasped behind her back, as if she were hiding something there.

"Cinderella," Serena said pleasantly. "How are you feeling now?"

Cinderella got up off her bed. Michelle glowered at her, but made no move to restrain her.

"Serena, Grace," Cinderella said, calmly but coolly, clasping her hands together in front of her and doing her best to look regal rather than frightened. "What's going on?"

"Your misgovernment is at an end, Cinderella," Serena said. "Gentlemen loyal to the crown are seizing the palace as we speak. Your creatures are being taken into custody."

"Misgovernment?" Cinderella said. "How have I misgoverned this country?"

Serena laughed. "Oh, let me count the ways: you have given away wealthy and valuable territory to a horde of Norman barbarians, you have threatened the supremacy of the aristocracy, you have changed policy upon your own whims, you have changed ministers as often as you changed lovers-"

"Serena!" Cinderella gasped. "You know full well that…it was you, wasn't it?" She took a step backwards. "All those stories about me in the newspaper, all the things they knew about me, about what went on in the palace…it was you. You told them."

Serena smiled. "Well, it wasn't me who told everyone that you'd slept with Lucien Gerard – he did that himself – but I certainly didn't discourage him. I even kept him safe from your retribution. I'd say that it was nothing personal but that wouldn't really be true."

Cinderella swallowed. "Have…have you always hated me?"

"Hate?" Serena asked. "No…no, I don't hate you. I despise you. Do you have any idea how it felt having to smile and simper to someone like you? To pretend to be your friend? To do as you told me? For God's sake, your mother's family were in trade; even if you hadn't been a servant you still wouldn't be fit to wed the prince or rule this country!"

"I see," Cinderella said. "And you, Grace? Do you despise me?"

Grace smiled. "Someone like you couldn't possibly understand how someone like me feels about…someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Cinderella asked. "Is that what this is all about? Because I wasn't born to the right family, because I wasn't brought up in the right way, because I wasn't educated properly, because I don't know some of the things that you know…is that why you're doing this?"

"We're doing this to save Armorique," Serena said. "We tried to warn you, Augustina tried to warn you but you wouldn't listen. You thought you knew best, you arrogant little idiot."

"I did what I thought was right."

"Right for who?" Serena demanded. "For yourself, for your virtue-signalling middle-class friends, for the howling mob? Not for us. You called us your friends and then you spat in our faces, stabbed us in the back. You can stand there and act so high and mighty, talk to us as though we're the ones who betrayed you, but which of us is the real traitor here?"

"I never betrayed you," Cinderella replied. "I didn't take away your land, or your wealth. I didn't do anything to you. I helped people who were in need. I certainly didn't make up nasty stories about you and fill the newspapers with them. I didn't make everyone at court hate you."

"We didn't do that either, you did that by yourself," Grace said, with a smirk on her face. "We wouldn't have been able to slander you if you hadn't carried on in a way that invited scandal."

Cinderella pursed her lips together. _That doesn't excuse what you did to me, but I suppose that it's pointless to argue since you two clearly think it does._ "What do you want?" she asked. "What are you going to do to me?"

"The question is not what we are going to do to you, but what you are going to do for this country," Serena said. She made a quick gesture with her hand, and Grace produced a document from behind her. "You're going to sign these documents abdicating as regent, confessing your treason and adultery and throwing yourself upon the King's mercy. Once you do that you will be taken under house arrest on one of the royal estates out in the provinces. You will be allowed to retain the services of your lady's maid and a full staff to cater to your needs although, of course, any guards will be provided by us, the great families of the realm who have risen up to save it from your abuse of power." Serena looked for a moment as though she expected some kind of a response from Cinderella, but when none was forthcoming she ploughed onwards. "Afterwards your marriage to Prince Eugene will be set aside, but you will be allowed to live out your days in comfortable confinement, given every luxury and comfort which a lady deserves. You can even take your wardrobe with you, if you like, and certain pieces of jewellery which have especial sentimental value, like the necklace you wore on your wedding day."

"I see," Cinderella murmured. "That's very generous of you, Serena."

Serena's eyes narrowed. "It is very generous as it happens. I could have been much harsher with you. Will you sign?"

"No," Cinderella replied.

Serena blinked. "No?" she said. "You will not."

"No, I won't."

Grace chuckled, before Serena silenced her with a glare.

"Cinderella," Serena said, with ill-concealed irritation in her voice. "I don't think you understand the position that you're in. We control the palace, we have friends in the Assembly, we have one of the great organs of the press upon our side. You are trapped in here. You are completely at my mercy, you have no choice!"

"I do have a choice, Serena," Cinderella said firmly. "I may not be as well educated as you, I may be a little naïve, I may not have seen you for what you are but I'm not an idiot. Why would Eugene agree to dissolve our marriage? He wouldn't."

"He might when he finds out that you've been sleeping with other men," Serena said.

"I'm not going to confess to something that I haven't done," Cinderella declared. "And even if I did Eugene wouldn't believe it."

"Prince Eugene isn't here," Serena pointed out.

"No, but some day he will return, with an army," Cinderella replied. "I think that you need me."

Serena scoffed. "You're trapped and at my mercy."

"And if I don't sign your pieces of paper then you are nothing but a traitor," Cinderella said.

Serena snorted in irritation. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I do need your confession and abdication in order to provide a veil of legitimacy over my actions. But don't think for a minute that that means you have a choice. Your husband and his army are on the other side of an ocean. Your friends are few, and overpowered by our supporters. You have no choice. Sign, or I will be forced to take steps."

"I won't sign anything of the sort," Cinderella said. "And you can't make me."

Serena advanced upon her. Cinderella didn't move, letting Serena come so close that she could feel her breath.

"You know Lucien is downstairs," Serena said. "I could let him come up here, and leave him alone with you if you like."

Cinderella suppressed a shudder. "You can't intimidate me, Serena."

"Are you not intimidated right now?"

"I'm not going to sign."

"Why not?" Serena demanded. "What exactly do you think is going to happen if you delay?"

Cinderella turned away to cough into her hand, rather than on Serena. "I think I'm going to be rescued, and you're going to lose."

Serena's eyes widened for a moment before she started to laugh. "You think that…what…on what possible grounds do you base these fantastical hopes?"

"Hope doesn't have to be based on anything," Cinderella said. "But it's always been with me, nonetheless. No matter what anyone has done to me, no matter what has happened to me I've always carried hope with me, and it has kept me safe throughout my life. I don't intend to give it up now, and nothing that you or Grace or Lucien can do will make me give up hope; because hope is more powerful than all of you put together, and I hope that you'll soon find that out for yourself."


	40. Staring Down a Barrel

Staring Down A Barrel

Jean stumbled as they shoved him into the lightless cell, falling forwards with barely enough time to throw his arms out in front of him before hit the ground.

He growled in pain as he heard the door slam shut behind him.

"Who...who's there?" a timorous voice asked from out of the darkness.

"Mademoiselle Marinette?"

"Jean?"

"Angelique?" Jean said. "Are we all here then?"

"Not Philippe or his grandmother," Angelique said. "They're...I don't know where they are, but they aren't here with us."

"I hope they are enjoying greater comforts than we, not that that would be too difficult," Jean murmured. He pushed himself up onto his knees. It felt as though he had scraped his hands when falling, they throbbed in pain; along with so much else of him. "Are you two...did they hurt you?"

"No," Marinette said.

"A little," Angelique said. "To get me to stop struggling. You?"

"I tried to fight, but there were too many of them," Jean said. He fumbled out with both hands like a blind man. "Where are you? I can't see anything in here. One of my eyes...I think it's swollen shut, and other...it's so dark in here."

He felt someone touch one of his flailing hands.

"Who is that?"

"It's me," Angelique said. "Come here, I've got you."

Jean allowed himself to be pulled forwards, into an embrace, until he was lying with his head in her lap, his face resting against her chest, feeling the silk of her dress against his cheek.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes," he admitted, because what price pride in such a place as this.

"I'm sorry."

Jean frowned, and blinked with his unswollen eye. "What have you to be sorry for?"

"I've let you down," Angelique murmured. "I've...I've let everybody down. I said...I said I was going to protect her, I told myself that I could keep her safe and now...now...I've failed. I've failed completely, haven't I?"

"Angelique," Jean whispered. "You've-" He stopped, as he felt something wet land upon his cheek. A drop of water, followed by another, and another. "Angelique, are you crying?"

"Of course I'm not crying," Angelique snapped, even as she stroked his head with gentle tenderness. "It...it's raining in here, that's all."

Jean smiled, though he didn't know if she could see it. "Of course it is. How stupid of me not to notice. Angelique, none of this is your fault. If anything-"

"You're going to tell me that this isn't my fault because it's yours?"

"I'm the princess' guard," Jean said. "If anyone is supposed to protect her highness, it's me."

"I don't think either of you could have seen this coming," Marinette said, from somewhere across the room. "I...I still can't believe that Serena or Grace would do this. I...I thought that...I knew they didn't like her as much as they pretended, or I thought did, but...I thought they only wanted to take advantage of her, but this...what are they going to do to her?"

 _If her highness is still alive,_ Jean thought. It was a dark thought, and a profoundly unwelcome one, but he could not keep it out of his mind, it crept in through the nooks and crannies in his defences. For if they had done so much...if they had committed treason then why shrink from murder, and with her highness' health so poor as it was...he found it too easy to imagine that Princess Cinderella might be dead. Only the fact that he and Angelique and Mademoiselle Marinette yet lived gave him some hope, for if they intended to kill the princess then why spare her servants?

All the same, he wished that she could know for sure.

He heard a high-pitched squeaking sound nearby.

"Oh, thank God for that," Angelique sighed in relief.

"Angelique?"

"Cinderella's still alive," Angelique declared. "She...she's better now than she was before, I suppose...maybe breaking that altar-thing really some good after all. I wasn't sure."

"An altar?" Marinette asked. "And who are you talking to?"

Angelique didn't answer. Instead Jean heard more squeaking from nearby.

"They want what?"

"Excuse me, but what's going on?" Marinette asked plaintively.

More squeaking, sounding rather excitable.

"Serena and Grace are holding Cinderella captive in her chambers," Angelique said. "They...I think they want her to sign away her marriage, or something."

"I'm very sorry Angelique, but how do you know this?"

"Because a mouse is telling me."

Marinette was silent for a moment. "I...I'm sorry, I don't quite..."

"Do you trust me, Marinette?"

Another silence. "Yes, yes I think I do."

"Then trust me, because I...actually I suppose I've got nothing but time to explain and convince you, but for now, just let me finish talking to Jaq. Are you sure that's what they want her to do?"

More squeaking.

"And treason as well? What a pair of...what's the word?"

"Hypocrites?" Marinette suggested.

"Yes, hypocrites, what a pair of hypocrites," Angelique declared. "What about the boy Philippe, have you seen him?"

Squeaking.

Angelique sighed.

"What is it?" Jean asked.

"Philippe and his grandmother have been sent away," Angelique said. "They were seen being led out of the palace."

"Seen...seen by mice?" Marinette asked. "Mice who...who talk to you?"

"I'm not the only one they talk to," Angelique replied. "Thank you, Jaq. Go back and keep an eye on Cinderella. If they ever leave her alone, let her know we're alright, but I don't know how much help we can be."

There was a last, brief burst of squeaking, and then silence.

"Are you going to explain now?" Marinette asked.

Angelique hesitated for a moment. "I don't suppose I've got anything better to do, unless anyone has a plan to escape. No? Well, I don't know how much it matters now but this is still supposed to be a secret, so keep it to yourself. The princess..."

* * *

They had manhandled Cinderella into the sitting room, and shut the door on her. It wasn't locked, as far as she could tell, but then she wasn't really going anywhere regardless so Cinderella supposed that it didn't really matter. The windows in the sitting room, as in the washroom and the boudoir, all opened out onto a sheer drop of a great distance, and even if she had been in the best of health Cinderella would probably have quailed at attempting such a desperate escape. The only real way out was via the bedroom, where Serena and Grace had their servants, Rollo and Michelle, waiting for her.

She was trapped. She could do nothing but hope.

And listen at the door to hear what they were saying in the next room. It wasn't something that she liked doing, but this was hardly time to stand on courtesy to people who had lied to her, betrayed her, plotted against her and now wanted her to sign away her marriage so that they could reverse all the good that she had tried to do. If anyone deserved to be spied on in turn, it was surely them.

So Cinderella crouched by the door into the bedroom and pressed her ear to the keyhole and listened.

"You let him go?" Grace said, sounding as though she didn't quite believe what she was saying. "You let him go?"

"Yes, Grace, you don't need to say it more than once," Serena snapped. "And there's no need to take that tone, either; you make it sound as though I let Cinderella walk out the door."

"Is that what you're going to do next?"

"Who are you to question my judgement?" Serena demanded. "This is my plan, these are my friends, all that we have accomplished is down to my efforts, so why do you seem to think that-"

"Because this isn't a game, you don't get to take your toys and go home if you're unhappy," Grace said. "Great things are at stake here and you have put them all at risk."

Cinderella had no idea what they were talking about; clearly Serena had allowed someone to leave the palace and Grace was unhappy about it, but that meant little to Cinderella since she had no notion of and no way of telling who he was unless one of them were kind enough to mention a name. _Who could it be? His Majesty? Jean?_ It could be anyone. _Would one of you please be kind enough to mention a name?_

"What would you have done instead?" Serena asked. "What would be the point of keeping them here?"

"Leverage," Grace replied, in a voice as hard as flint. "Cinderella would sign all your documents, she'd confess to having slept with Lucien and Jean and even the King himself to keep any harm from coming to a hair on her sweet stepson's head."

Cinderella couldn't restrain the gasp that rose up from her throat. _Philippe? Serena let Philippe go? And his grandmother?_ That was the only explanation she could think of for Serena's use of 'they'.

She didn't know whether to be more shocked by Grace's cruelty or by Serena's mercy.

Judging by the silence that settled temporarily on the other side of the door Serena was just as shocked by Grace's declaration as Cinderella.

"That...are you serious?" Serena said. "You...for the love of God, Grace, tell me you're not serious."

"Of course I am, why shouldn't I be?"

"Because...because this isn't a squalid thing that we're about!" Serena yelled. "Ours is a noble cause, we are saving Armorique and its system from those who would destroy it, we are saving the monarchy from those unworthy hands who would pollute it with their baser blood; you don't threaten children when you're in the right and acting to restore order and good government."

Grace snorted. "So Brutus is an honourable man, is that the size of it? And for Brutus' honour we risk everything? This is a coup, Serena, no matter our motives we have committed treason and can only hope to justify ourselves by what comes next. And by letting the king's grandson-"

"He's illegitimate."

"He's a duke."

"Nobody at court took that seriously," Serena said derisively. "He's a child, his mother was a dancer, he has no standing, he can barely talk. He's not dangerous, and we're not going to put a gun to the head of a toddling boy. The deed is done, Grace, leave off."

Grace was quiet for a moment. "Very well, the milk is split. I'm going to talk to her."

"Cinderella?"

"Who else?"

"Very well," Serena said. "Don't be too rough with her, will you?"

Grace giggled. "I'll be gentle, I promise."

Cinderella retreated hastily away from the door, and in the direction of the green settee, as the door opened and Grace walked in.

She kept her eyes fixed on Cinderella as she closed the door behind her. "How much did you overhear?"

"I, I don't know what you mean," Cinderella said.

Grace smirked. "Has anyone ever told you that you're an atrocious liar?"

Cinderella looked down at her feet. "Eugene told me that, but he said it fondly."

"Of course he did," Grace said. "You know you're really a very lucky girl; for all his faults he really does love you. It made it rather infuriating at times to watch you mope about how he'd upset you, or hurt you or whatever trivial thing he'd done to get your back up this time. You didn't seem to realise, you didn't seem to appreciate at all, how lucky you were not to be a princess...but to have a man's heart in the palm of your hand. Few can say the same."

"Is that why you hate me, Grace?" Cinderella asked. "Because I wasn't appreciative enough of my good fortune for your liking?"

Grace laughed. "No, that wasn't it. That was just...a little something extra, on occasion."

"I always thought I was very appreciative," Cinderella murmured. "I tried to be."

"Well what do I know? I'm your enemy, after all," Grace said lightly. "So tell me, Cinderella, how did you overhear of what Serena and I were discussing? All of it?"

Cinderella nodded. "Would you really have done it? Would you really have threatened Philippe just to make me sign your wretched papers?"

"Of course I would," Grace said. "Because you would have signed them, wouldn't you? I bet you wouldn't even hesitate."

Cinderella didn't deny that. Terrible liar that she was, she probably wouldn't be able to fool Grace upon the point even if she wanted to. Imagining Philippe's face, imagining his fear...she would do anything, sacrifice anything, to protect him...even her reputation, even her own self. "I'm very disappointed that you'd even consider such a thing."

Grace laughed, in practically cackled with glee. "I'm sorry, do you have any idea how arrogant that sounds? You use that word like a cudgel, you tell us that you're disappointed in the way that we behave as though we ought to care what you think, as though you're good opinion is something we should be assiduously seeking after."

"I thought you did care what I thought," Cinderella said softly. "I thought we were friends."

Grace sniggered. "There's a part of me that pities you. Clearly you didn't have any friends growing up, or not enough to teach you the difference between real friendship and worthless sycophancy."

"I wasn't friendless," Cinderella replied frostily, although it was a strange irony that she had made so many friends - animal friends, admittedly, but still - after she fell from grace and was stripped of all her possessions and her comforts and hurled into impoverished servitude. As a very small child, even as the daughter of a wealthy gentleman, she had been a lonely girl; they had no neighbours, and she didn't leave the chateau very often. Cinderella believed that one of the reasons why her father had married Lady Tremaine was so that she could have not only a mother but two friends her own age. "I think, if anything," Cinderella continued. "I was spoiled by the devotion that my old friends showed to me."

"Yes, I suppose that it must have been very tempting for you to assume that we would all be as earnest and as loyal as mice," Grace said.

Cinderella's eyes widened. "You...you know? Can...can you hear them too?"

"And so much more," Grace said. "Are mice the only creatures you can speak too?"

Cinderella said nothing.

Grace advanced. "Come on, you can tell me. It's not like I can use this information to embarrass you, I've already taken part in a coup aimed at your downfall, what more harm can I do you at this point?" She cocked her head to one side. "I can speak to cats as well."

"Cats?"

"And owls, rats, snakes, and lizards," Grace said. "You can't, can you?"

"No," Cinderella said. "But...some birds, when I hear them cheeping, I can understand them even if I don't hear them speaking the way I do the mice."

"Fascinating," Grace murmured. "Is that how you did it then? Magic?"

"Did what?" Cinderella asked cautiously.

"Got everything that you wanted," Grace said. "You can't be blind to the fact that it's the great mystery about you: you arrive at the palace as a servant, you tell everyone that your stepmother has made you a slave, you're poor, you have no education, no one in society has ever met you. That's fine. Well, clearly it isn't but I'm sure you know what I mean. It's consistent. It makes sense."

"That's because it's true," Cinderella said chillily.

"I'm sure it is," Grace replied airily. "But at the ball! You were so lavishly attired, you had such a gorgeous dress, you had slippers made of glass, you dazzled the world with your beauty and you won't tell anyone how you did it. You won't speak of it. It's a secret. I wondered, at one time, if you were like me, a witch."

Cinderella took a step backwards, her legs knocking into the settee as she did so. "You're...a...you're a witch?"

"Your tone of surprise suggests that you aren't one yourself," Grace observed. "But it's magic, what we can do, you have to realise that. Talking to animals...it isn't normal, is it? I wondered, if you had magic at your command, why you wouldn't call upon the Dark Father to curse your wicked stepfamily, but then I told myself that you were too kind. But then...a witch would have recognised my curse that was leeching away your life until last night."

Cinderella's hand went to her heart. "A curse...you...you were the one who made me-"

"You made yourself ill by working too hard, I just took the opportunity to make things worse," Grace said. "Just like I took the opportunity to spook the horses on your romantic carriage ride on the off chance that some mishap would befall you in the chaos."

"When I nearly drowned..."

"Yes," Grace said. "I've had you in my sights for quite some time."

"Why?" Cinderella demanded. "I hadn't even done anything then!"

"Because I'm a witch, daughter to a line of witches," Grace said. "For generations we have hidden what we are, posing as ordinary, unimportant members of the court; there was such an opportunity with Prince Eugene: a witch queen to rule this country, and a warlock king to follow in my footsteps. And all that stood in my way was you. How did you do it? Please, put me out of my misery."

Cinderella pursed her lips.

"Tell me!" Grace snapped. "Tell the truth!"

"My fairy godmother helped me," Cinderella blurted out, without really knowing why she had said it.

Grace looked surprised for a moment. "Oh. Oh, yes that would explain it. Somebody is a lucky girl, aren't they? Do you know how rare it is for a fairy to attend upon a mortal birth? I'm quite jealous."

"More than you were, you mean."

"Yes, of course. More than I was." Grace laughed. "Listen to me; I'm supposed to be persuading you to sign."

"I won't," Cinderella said. "I absolutely won't."

Grace bore down on her, grabbing her by the arms and digging her nails into Cinderella's skin. "Serena doesn't want to hurt you, but don't assume that I'll be as nice. Sign it!"

"No," Cinderella said.

Grace snorted. "At times like this I wish I could just compel you with magic to do what I wanted." She threw Cinderella down on the settee and turned away. "Just because the young duke is gone, we still have your other friends: Angelique, Marinette, Duchamp, Ensign Taurillion. How much are you willing to let them suffer on your behalf?"

Cinderella stood up. "Leave them alone, they have nothing to do with this."

"They have everything to do with this," Grace replied. "Will you sign...or will you explain to Colonel Gerard why he doesn't have a sister to come home to."

Cinderella shook her head. "Serena would never allow it."

"Wouldn't she? So sure of that?" Grace asked. "What say we find out?"

* * *

Jean heard the hinges creek before he saw the light in the doorway, a burning orange glow driving back the darkness. He squinted his unswollen eye, to see Lucien Gerard walk into their...their cell, he supposed, whatever the original purpose of it was. Several men were with her, with swords at their hips. If he had been feeling better he might have tried to fight them regardless of their numbers, but after the tokens of their esteem they had given him the last time he tried to fight he was afraid it would be futile.

Futile or not, if they meant to hurt Angelique, or Mademoiselle Gerard, they would find out that he was not yet rendered helpless.

He forced himself to his feet, gritting his teeth against the aching across his body, and stepped into the middle of the room, halfway between Angelique and where he thought Mademoiselle Marinette was.

"Lucien," murmured Mademoiselle Marinette. She sounded so sad, so upset, it was...it was heartbreaking that this had been forced. "Lucien, you...you're one of them?"

Lucien flinched. "Marinette, I-"

"How?" she demanded. "How could you? How could...how could you do this to Cinderella? How could you...how could you do this to me?"

"I did it for love," Lucien replied, his voice hoarse as though he didn't quite believe it himself. "Cinderella, she...she'll be mine once she has given up her crown. I'll make things better, we'll be happy-"

"Make her happy?" Marinette demanded. "Make her happy, Lucien! You lied to her! You betrayed her, you stole from her! What you tried to...what you're doing now...how can you even say the word love when you've got no idea what it really means."

"Because the only person he loves is himself," Angelique muttered.

Lucien shook his head stubbornly. "This is for her own good, Marinette. If she had only chosen me-"

"She doesn't love you!" Marinette yelled. "She loves Prince Eugene can't you understand that! If you cared about Cinderella at all you would want her to be happy."

"I'm your brother," Lucien whined. "You should be on my side."

"Not when you're wrong," Marinette replied.

Lucien Gerard looked...he actually looked upset to hear that, as though he had thought that Mademoiselle Marinette would betray her friendship with the princess for his sake.

"What do you want?" Angelique demanded.

Lucien swallowed. "Marinette...they want to see you."

"Why?" Jean asked.

Lucien said nothing. He looked ill, and he would not look his sister in the eye.

"Oh, God," Angelique muttered.

"It's alright, Angelique," Jean said, his voice sharp and cold. He took a step closer to Lucien, and then another, and stepped also between him and Mademoiselle Marinette. "You pathetic little worm."

"I don't-"

"It doesn't matter," Jean said, cutting off his excuses. "As an officer and a man, I demand the right to face whatever you people have in mind for her."

Lucien shrank from him. "As...as a man?"

"Not something you'd know anything about."

Lucien glanced between Jean and his sister, and Jean could tell that he was going to take the bait even before he nodded. "Bring him."

* * *

Cinderella clasped her hands in front of her as she walked back into the bedroom. Grace shut the door behind her with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

Serena's expression was grave, she glowered at Cinderella but would not meet her eyes. Lucien was absent from the room.

Cinderella found that she was rather glad of that.

"Well?" Serena demanded.

"My answer has not changed," Cinderella murmured. "But...I want to thank you, Serena."

Serena hesitated. "You...thank me for what?"

"For sending Philippe and his grandmother away," Cinderella said. "That was very kind of you."

"Yes, well," Serena muttered. "I...I am not the villain of this story; all that I have done has been forced upon me by your misbehaviour."

"I don't think that we'll ever agree on that," Cinderella replied.

"No," Serena spat. "No, I don't suppose we will."

"Where is Lucien?" Grace asked.

Serena looked away. "Bringing up Marinette."

Cinderella tried to stifle a gasp and almost succeeded. "I don't believe you."

"I don't care what you believe, you'll see the truth soon enough," Serena growled.

"You sent Philippe away but you're going to hurt Marinette? What has Marinette ever done to you?"

"I'm not doing anything to her, you are!" Serena snapped. "If you want to spare her, sign the papers!"

Cinderella shook her head. "I don't believe you'd do this."

Serena turned away, resting one hand upon one wooden bedpost.

"Serena," Cinderella said. "Serena I know you know that this is wrong. I know that you're better than this. And I know that because you've shown me that you are, not just with Philippe but...I don't believe that the Serena I knew was entirely false. I don't believe she was entirely made up. I know that you can be kind, and good. Please, Serena."

Serena turned her head, but stopped before she actually looked at Cinderella. "Are you asking for mercy for yourself or for your friends."

"For Marinette, and anyone else," Cinderella said. "I'm asking you, please, to do the right thing."

Serena closed her green eyes. "I already am."

The door opened, and Lucien entered. But not with Marinette, no; it was Jean who was shoved into the bedroom with them all, Jean battered and beaten and bruised but still keeping his back straight in spite of everything.

"Jean!" Cinderella asked. "Oh, Jean, you're face-"

"It doesn't matter, highness, it was never that nice to look at," Jean said. He bowed his head. "I...I'm sorry, princess, I should have done more to protect you from these villains."

"You've done quite enough, Jean," Cinderella murmured. "You've repaid my kindness many times over now."

"What is this?" Grace demanded. "Where's Marinette?"

"What kind of man would allow a lady to suffer, when he can suffer for her?" Jean demanded.

"You did the right thing, Lucien," Serena said. "It's better this way."

"Serena-"

"Will you sign?" Serena demanded.

"No!" Jean said. "Your highness, please, you must not give in for my sake."

"Michelle!" Serena snapped, and Michelle produced a pistol from her sleeve and pointed it into Jean's face, right between the eyes.

Jean didn't even flinch. "You may do as you like to me but you will never win."

"Serena," Cinderella said. "Please don't do this. I'm begging you. Please."

Michelle cocked the pistol.

"His fate is entirely in your hands," Serena declared. "Three, two-"

"Stop it!" Cinderella shrieked. "I'll sign, of course I'll sign, just...just please don't hurt him."

"Your highness!" Jean cried. "No, princess, you can't...you mustn't give in to them on my account."

"You've saved my life so many times, Jean," Cinderella said, favouring him with a slight smile. "Hush now, while I save yours."

"I knew you'd make the right choice," Grace whispered into Cinderella's ear. "Given the right persuasion."

Cinderella shuddered.

Serena laid out her documents on Cinderella's bedside table. "Here," she said curtly, placing down an inkwell and holding out a quill.

Cinderella walked slowly forwards. Jean looked scandalised but what she was doing, but he kept quiet just as she'd asked him too. Cinderella's hand trembled as she took the quill, though she hoped that nobody noticed it. Let Jean be aghast at her decision, she knew that she was doing the right thing. The only possible thing.

She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to confess to having betrayed the man she loved, she didn't want to say that she was wrong when she wasn't, she didn't want to...she didn't want to do any of it.

 _The moment I sign this,_ she thought, as she dipped her pen in ink. _The moment I sign this I end my life._ But the alternative...to let Jean die, and then Angelique and Marinette and Duchamp too? She couldn't do that. It would be unbearably selfish to even consider it.

And so, on every page, she signed her name: Cinderella, with none of the regal flourishes that had adorned the legal documents that she had signed more recently. Just Cinderella, back where she had started from.

Serena snatched the documents up off the table. "Thank you, Cinderella, and well done. Looking back I think you'll agree with me that you did the right thing, for Armorique but also for yourself."

Cinderella didn't say anything, but it was very hard for her to keep the distaste that she felt for Serena at this moment off her face, even in this situation.

"You have," Lucien said. "You really have, and now we can be together and-"

"There may be a gun pointed in my face but if you don't shut it I'm going to break your bones," Jean growled.

Grace laughed. "I have to give you credit, Cinderella, you do inspire tremendous loyalty in your pets."

"I don't have pets, Grace," Cinderella replied icily. "I have friends."

Grace's smirk was unmoved. "Of course you do. That's why you lost."

Serena sighed. "You should get dressed, Cinderella. I'll have Duchamp sent up to assist you."

"You're moving me already," Cinderella said, making a statement not asking a question.

"Do you honestly want to stay here?" Serena asked. "You can wear whatever you want but no jewellery, what you will be allowed to keep will be decided later."

"And what about my friends?" Cinderella asked. "What will become of them?"

Serena hesitated for a moment, and then she seemed to decide that she could afford to be magnanimous, given that she had just won the real prize. "Duchamp will accompany you into your new accomodation, and the two street rats can do the same if they want; you'll have no need for a guard or a lady-in-waiting, but you can put them to work as a maid and a gardener's boy, or something of that sort. Or just keep them around looking decorative if you want, it doesn't really matter."

"Thank you," Cinderella said softly. "That's very kind of you. And Marinette?"

"Marinette Gerard is a gentleman's daughter, her place is here at court," Serena said. "Not with you."

"Of course," Cinderella murmured.

"I don't want them there," Lucien squawked. "Not the boy or the girl, I wouldn't feel safe."

"Why does it matter to you either way, you're not going anywhere near the place?" Serena asked.

Lucien's eyes bulged. "But you promised-"

"I lied, darling, I've been doing it rather a lot lately," Serena drawled. "I may be many things, but I'm not going to allow you to molest a woman who can't stand you when it no longer benefits me to do so."

Lucien's mouth hung open. "But...you said...I thought..."

"You have been very useful to me, and for that I thank you," Serena said, in a rather patronising tone. "But your usefulness to me is at an end. Now get out of my sight, you loathsome little toad."

"I...you..." Lucien stammered.

"Get him out of here, Rollo," Grace said.

Cinderella didn't watch him leave. She felt gratitude, absurdly enough, to the two women who had destroyed her life. Gratitude for the small mercy that they had just granted her. And yet at the same time she...she almost pitied Lucien. He was in exactly the same position as she was, having been betrayed by those he trusted and thought friends; only he didn't even have any true friends to comfort him.

She might have hoped that the similarity in their experiences might stir something within him but, to be honest, she doubted it. Lucien...he was a very selfish person, if it was not too cruel to say so. Probably he would feel even more wronged by the world than he had before.

With the help of Duchamp, Cinderella put on a simple blue dress, with puffed shoulders and lace cuffs at the elbows where her sleeves stopped. She wasn't really in the mood for anything more ostentatiously pretty. She felt sick in her stomach, not from illness but from shame and upset and...and anger. She didn't like to admit it, not even to herself, but she was angry. Angry at Serena and Grace, angry at Lucien, angry at everyone who had joined them, angry at what they had done...angry at herself, most of all. Angry at herself, for being so completely taken in.

"There, ma'am," Duchamp said, as she fastened the last button up Cinderella's back. "All done."

Cinderella barely glanced at herself in the mirror. "Thank you, Duchamp," she said quietly. "Duchamp, I...I'm very sorry that I've gotten you caught up in all of this. I suppose...before I acted, I should have thought about who could be affected by my actions."

"You had no way of predicting this, ma'am," Duchamp said. "You could not have planned for this. Nobody thought that...and besides, I'm not hurt. I've nothing to complain about."

"Nothing?" Cinderella repeated incredulously. "Not even...they're sending you with me, to...to somewhere. You don't mind that."

"Frankly, ma'am, after you I'm not sure that I'd want to serve another mistress. I can't think of another who'd compare."

Cinderella's lips twitched for a moment. "You're much too kind, Duchamp. But then you always were. It's too late now, but I'm very grateful to you. For everything."

"That's very generous of you to say, ma'am," Duchamp said. "I wish...I wish that I could do more than say that I'm sorry, for all of the misfortunes you've endured."

Cinderella didn't reply to that. She wasn't sure what she could say. She noticed her wedding and engagement rings on the table, and in a moment of impulse she scooped them up into her palm, before turning to Duchamp and pressing one finger against her lips.

 _I don't see why Serena or Grace should have these._

Duchamp smiled, and gestured to one of her pockets, and into that pocket went the rings.

 _Goodbye, Eugene. I hope you don't mind me having something to remember you by._

"Shall we go?" Cinderella asked.

Duchamp nodded, and followed Cinderella out into the bedroom.

Grace was not waiting for them, and neither was Lucien. Only Serena was there, looking a little discomfited compared to how triumphant she had looked no long ago. When she saw Cinderella, it was almost as though she didn't know what to do. As though she had forgotten what she meant to do next.

"Ah, Cinderella," she said vaguely. "You...you're dressed, that...that's a little bit...you didn't need to do that."

"But you asked me to," Cinderella pointed out.

"Yes, well," Serena said, looking from one side to the next. "You aren't actually going anywhere, not for a while."

"Why not?" Cinderella asked. "What happened."

Serena fixed her with a decidedly sour look, and yet underneath her sourness Serena looked almost scared. "There's a growing crowd gathering at the palace gates, getting larger all the time," she said. "My supporters don't want to open the gates, even to let your carriage out, for fear of letting them in. They're in an ugly mood, apparently."

Cinderella's eyes widened. "But why? What do they want?"

Serena laughed hollowly. "Can't you guess? They're demanding your release."


	41. Princess of Hearts

Princess of Hearts

It was now the third day of what Cinderella had begun to hear some refer to as the siege of the palace.

The gates remained shut, guarded by the supporters of Serena and Grace, the noble gentlemen who had come to save Armorique, or so they claimed, from Cinderella's wickedness in daring to try and help those less fortunate than herself. The gates remained shut, but that was in part because no one dared to open them for fear that the angry mob outside would flood in and overwhelm the good gentlemen of the country trapped within. Great crowds, which had become even more swollen over the course of these three days, were massed not only outside the main gate, but outside the Servants' Gate as well, with the result that there was no way in or out of the palace for anybody.

As Serena had said, the crowd demanded her release. From her tower room Cinderella could hear them chanting her name, when they were not singing the national anthem or the carmagnole. She didn't dare to show it in front of her captors, but she felt incredibly grateful for their loyalty. She hadn't done anything because she wanted that, she hadn't done it with any thought of earning their devotion so that they would support her in future quarrels. She had only done what seemed right to her at the time and yet, now that they were displaying their loyalty to her, she felt incredibly grateful for it.

Though her royal life might seem, to an outside observer reading the chronicle of events that had befallen her as if it were a story in a book, to be one long tale of misfortunes fallen upon her head - attacks, deceit, treachery, the secrecy of Eugene, her recent illness - nevertheless in spite of everything and all the sorrow she had felt in days passed and all that was befalling her even now Cinderella felt...blessed. Blessed beyond measure in the store of others' love with which she was endowed. Many who lived less eventful lives, perhaps seemingly happier lives, were not so fortunate as she in that.

The people demanded her release. More than that they demanded that those who had sought to do her harm be punished for what they had done, and vowed vengeance upon any who would harm her. In this attitude they were strongly supported by the _Gazette_ , which newspaper the mob suffered to be passed through the gate and into the palace, which daily blasted forth in support of Cinderella, deploying words like treason and tyranny to describe what Serena and Grace and their supporters had done. From the newspaper Cinderella had also learned that the Assembly had, after a day of debate and a night of listening to a crowd outside chanting her name, decried the plotters and passed a motion urging them to surrender at once. They could not, so it was reported, decide what to do to actually bring about that outcome: a maze of moral and practical considerations had left the politicians paralysed, unable to guarantee the safety of the King no matter what they did.

His Majesty. Cinderella had not seen him in some time, and though she felt better - every day her health felt more restored, although she was still somewhat weak and unsteady on her feet - Serena had denied her request to go to him now. His Majesty was in the care of her brother, and if he was as faithful as Serena herself had proven to be then...Cinderella could do nothing but pray for him.

The _Courier_ was not available to those Trojans under siege within the palace, or those like Cinderella whom they held captive, because that newspaper was no longer in publication. It had made the mistake of daring to print an editorial in support of the attempted coup, and as a result a mob had stormed its premises, smashed the presses and burnt down the building. The smoke could be seen rising above the city skyline from Cinderella's balcony. She hadn't liked the newspaper at all, and it had never seemed particularly fond of her, but she did hope that nobody had been hurt. She didn't want anyone to turn to violence for her sake.

More pressing than the loss of the plotters press organ was the issue of food. Man could not live by newspaper alone, and Cinderella's supporters outside where not allowing any food to pass their vigil. In consequence, some of it was becoming rather scarce. Wine they had in plenty, but when it came to flour, fruit, vegetables, supplies were beginning to run a little short.

"I suppose you're feeling very pleased with yourself," Serena said, as she sipped a dark red wine from a cut glass goblet despite the earliness of the hour, for it was not yet noon.

Cinderella rested her fingertips upon her knees. The two of them sat in Cinderella's sitting room, alone, with Cinderella's gaolers waiting outside. "This isn't what I wanted, Serena. I never wanted anything like this."

Serena snorted. "That's a statement so preposterous that it ought to be absurd on it's face. Why else would you court the masses?"

"Because they needed my help," Cinderella replied. "And because helping them was the right thing to do."

Serena glowered at her. "The worst part is I actually believe you're sincere. My God, you're so perfect it's infuriating. Somebody like you, somebody with your past has no right being..." she waved her hand up and down at Cinderella as if trying to encompass all of her. "All this."

"Thank you, Serena."

"That was a complaint, not a compliment!" Serena snapped. She chuckled darkly. "But you knew that, didn't you? Was that a hint of catty claws that I just saw underneath that milky mild exterior?"

Cinderella glanced down. She wasn't proud of moments like that.

"Don't look like that, it's nothing to be ashamed of," Serena declared. She drank more wine. "It's about time you showed some real humanity instead of your usual angelic perfection."

"I've never pretended to be perfect," Cinderella murmured.

"Beautiful, kind, gentle, graceful, generous, loved by everybody," Serena said. "Where are the flaws there?"

"Naive, gullible, too ready to trust people who don't deserve to be trusted," Cinderella replied.

Serena laughed. "Yes, well, I suppose you could say that. Although, considering my own situation...I'm not sure how much room I have to call you foolish any more. You are my prisoner...and I am the prisoner of your mob. You thought that I was your true friend but I...when I first met you everyone was asking themselves 'Why her? Why did Prince Eugene choose such a one?' The answer - unintentional on his part or no - has been clear for some time and getting clearer every day and yet I blinded myself to it. You didn't see me for what I was, but I didn't want to see you for what you were. Which of us is really the fool?"

Cinderella didn't answer that. "What do you mean to do now, Serena?"

Serena eyed her sourly. "Are you going to try and persuade me to surrender?"

"I'm not sure that you have a choice."

Serena looked away for a moment, and drained her glass of wine. "Why did you do it?"

"What?"

"Decide to challenge us, our rights, our supremacy?" Serena asked. "Why couldn't you have played the part intended for you: a trophy wife, a pretty doll...a puppet regent?"

"I...I don't know," Cinderella said. "I don't know whether to tell you I was always kind, or whether to say that hardship taught me kindness. I don't remember any more. I don't really remember how I used to be."

Serena frowned. "Really?"

"I remember my Stepmother and stepsisters, I remember serving them, I remember them taking everything that I held dear," Cinderella murmured. "But before that...it's like a mist has come down and I'm trying to see through it. I only remember a few things. Certainly...I don't remember my nature. Perhaps I was a spoiled brat."

"Would that you had remained so," Serena said.

"I think you would have hated me anyway."

"Would I?" Serena said sourly. "You presume to know me and my motives."

"I have what you want," Cinderella said. "I don't think you could have forgiven that. Certainly Grace would not."

"Now you presume to go from naïf to prescient oracle in three scant days," Serena muttered. "Why didn't you punish them?"

"Who?"

"Your stepmother, your stepsisters," Serena explained. "You didn't do a thing to them. Not a single thing."

"I didn't do anything to help them either."

"So?" Serena asked. "You could have confiscated their estate - it belonged to your father, after all - you could have imprisoned them, you could have banished them, you could have...the worst you ever did was not invite them to court. They're still ensconced in your house in relative luxury. You know I approached Lady Tremaine about joining our little venture; she refused, wise old battle axe, because the risk was too great. And that's the point, really: you left them so much that they have too much to lose to risk revenge. Why?"

"It wasn't because I was afraid they might seek revenge on me," Cinderella replied.

Serena snorted. "I didn't think it was. Why?"

"Because I'd seen how cruelty hadn't made them happy," Cinderella said. "I was happy, with Eugene and our new life in front of me. I didn't need to be cruel to them to give me joy."

Serena stared at her for a moment. "You know, it's really rather amusing when you think about it: I had to take you prisoner for us to have a meaningful conversation."

"I think that's sad, more than it is funny," Cinderella murmured. "Serena, please. There's no way out."

Serena was silent for a moment. "Would you like to punish me? Would you like to punish my followers?"

"No," Cinderella replied. "I don't want to punish anyone. But I will."

Serena snorted. "You didn't punish your stepfamily."

"My stepfamily didn't put a gun to Jean's head," Cinderella said.

"A fair point," Serena said, although she didn't sound particularly happy about it. "I..." She got up. "I have to go."

"Serena, please," Cinderella said. "What else is there to do?"

"I don't know," Serena confessed. "But that doesn't mean I'm ready to give up just yet."

* * *

"Serena's going to give up," Grace said.

Anatole folded his arms. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because I can tell," Grace said. "She's weak."

"You're underestimating her," Anatole replied. "She's too proud to give up."

"You're her brother," Grace said. "Do you really think she'd make the ultimate sacrifice for her beliefs?"

Anatole was silent for a moment. "Not if there was anyone else who could be forced to make the ultimate sacrifice for her."

Grace sniggered. "Perhaps she should be the one forced to make sacrifices?"

"Meaning?"

"Our position is…not the greatest at the moment, is it?"

"Now who's giving up?"

Grace smiled. "Who said anything about giving up? There's a difference between giving up and living to fight another day."

"The plan-"

"Is dead," Grace declared. She put her arms on Anatole's shoulders, pressing against him. "But we don't have to die with it. What if…what if I told you that we could escape, together, just the two of us."

"The two of us?"

"And Rollo, to protect us. Any more and we'll be spotted for sure," Grace whispered. "And besides…someone has to stay, and be sacrificed."

"Serena," he said flatly, in a voice without emotion.

"These are her friends, they rallied to her. This is her plan. Why shouldn't she be punished for what she's done? She'll bear the blame and we'll escape together."

"And then what?" Anatole asked. "Our lands, our wealth, it will all be confiscated, we'll have nothing."

"The lands, the estates…there's nothing to be done about them," Grace admitted. "But gold, jewels…if we go now, we can gather what we can carry and be gone before anyone realises what we're doing. Enough to live on. Enough to get away from here, enough to reach…" she considered where they might go. Not Normandie, the eyes of Princess Frederica would track them there for sure. Anjou, as a start? Perhaps, but not to stay there. Spain, Albion, the Empire. "To reach anywhere we like, to wait, to plan. To come back, or not. We can do anything. But if we stay here…we'll do nothing."

"So we give up?" Anatole asked. "We let our enemies win. No throne, no kingdom."

"Not yet," Grace replied. "But while we're still alive…who knows?"

He would do it. She knew that he would do it. For her, for himself…he had already agreed to betray his sister, and far more violently too. There was no way that he wouldn't betray her in this.

"We just run," he murmured. "We don't…we don't…"

"No," Grace said firmly. She knew what he was asking. She had considered that herself. Kill the King, kill Cinderella, scorch the ground before they ran. But if they did that…they would be hunted for sure. Slipping away and leaving Serena to wear the chains of their joint action, that might work, especially with merciful Cinderella at the helm, but if they took revenge…there would be nowhere truly safe for them.

Anatole could not take the throne at this moment, he would be torn to pieces for even trying.

They had to make a clean escape, and if that meant leaving their enemies alive for now then so be it.

"Alright then," he said. "Let's get out while we can."

* * *

Serena screamed. She shrieked in pain and anger. She picked up a Dutch delft copy of a Japanese vase and threw it across the room so that it shattered upon the wall of her bedroom. She threw her ornamental eggs around until they were cracking, she tore her American trinkets into fragments, she tossed her ivory figurines against the floor, she lost herself in a most unlady like display of rage because at the moment she didn't give a damn about whether she looked like a lady or not.

All she cared about was how terrible she felt because it was all going wrong, all of it, it was all so _wrong_.

 _It wasn't supposed to be this way._ This was supposed to be her triumph. This was supposed to be the moment when she finally won. This was supposed to be the moment when all of her subservience, all of her flattery, all of her cringing and obeying and watching helplessly as the country and the system that she belonged to and stood at the pinnacle of was torn apart on the whim of a jumped up maidservant finally paid off. This was supposed to be her shining moment, her hour of glory, the moment when the name of Serena de Montcalm was emblazoned in the annals as the hero who stepped forth to the salvation of the nation. But now…now it was all going so wrong.

And so quickly too. Cinderella's defiance had been broken by a feigned act of cruelty – it was feigned, she told herself, she would have restrained Grace if it came to it – and they had been on the verge of victory and then…and then now they were defeated? By the people? The _people_? Beggars and shopkeepers and wounded soldiers and housewives all banded together? What right did such dross and gutter-sweepings have to shake the councils of princes and great lords? What right did they have to interfere with her plans? Why could they not simply stand aside, as was their place, and wait for their betters to order things correctly?

Why did they have to be this way? Why did they have to have opinions of their own?

 _Why did things have to turn out this way?_

After everything, after all her scheming, after all the bile that had built up towards Cinderella, after all of it…she was defeated. She was trapped by those at whom she had never spared a glance. She was beaten by Cinderella. She was betrayed by him whom she had held most dear.

Grace's betrayal bit her not at all; it was almost to be expected. Why would she expect any loyalty from someone who was, in the end, a rival? If Serena had been thinking clearly then she would have done the same thing.

But Anatole…her own brother, her other half, her twin, her…she couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe it. But that didn't make it any less true.

She was trapped, she was beaten, and she was betrayed. Her brother had abandoned her. For Grace.

 _Eugene chose Cinderella over me. The country chose Cinderella over me. Anatole chose Grace over me. Am I so repulsive that everyone will turn against me?_

Where was her Angelique? Where was her Marinette? Where was her Ensign Taurillion? Where were those who would stick with her through thick and thin? Where were her true friends?

Where were those who would be as loyal to her as those three were to Cinderella?

She could trust none of them. Those who had gathered to her banner out of fear of Cinderella or a desire to share in the spoils would all betray her in an instant. If they could not escape like Grace, then…

Then they would saddle her with all the blame for this and seek to escape free from repercussion. Whether they would succeed or not…Serena wasn't going to give them the opportunity.

She had lost. She had been betrayed. She had been a fool. There was only one thing left to do.

There was only one smart and sensible thing to do.

She would beg the mercy of Cinderella.

* * *

The smoke from the burning offices of the newspaper was beginning to die down, the last of it rising up over the city and mingling with the smoke from thousands of household chimneys, when the door to Cinderella's bedroom opened - Cinderella noticed that Rollo wasn't standing guard outside it now - and Serena came in.

She was better dressed than she had been, attired in a fine gown of cloth-of-gold that sparkled in the sunlight, with a necklace of emeralds draped around her neck and matching earrings dangling from her lobes. Her raven hair was half in ringlets dangling down the sides of her face, framing her beauty, and the rest seemed to be bound up behind her with chains of gold and silver.

She looked very lovely. It was a great pity that within she had no more loveliness than Anastasia or Drizella possessed.

Cinderella frowned. That was a very unkind thought. And yet she could not unthink it.

"Serena," she said softly. "You...you've changed. Your dress, I mean."

"It turns out there are some occasions one wants to look ones best for," Serena replied, her voice stiff and awkward. "Even if you wouldn't necessarily think so at first." Her jaw moved silently, swiping sideways like a horse. "Grace and Anatole are fled."

"I see," Cinderella whispered. She half turned away, placing her fingertips upon the smooth white surface of her dressing table. "You have a way out then."

"They found a way out, they didn't share it with me," Serena growled.

Cinderella looked at her, her blue eyes widening a little as she understood. "Oh, Serena. I...I'm so sorry."

Serena's laugh was more bitter than derisive, but not lacking in derision nonetheless. "Are you? Are you really?" She shook her head. "That would be the final insult, wouldn't it? To be pitied by you, after all that I...after all the times that I have looked down on you now I am the pathetic one. How do you do it?"

Cinderella hesitated. "How do I do what?"

"How do you make them love you?" Serena asked, as her voice trembled upon the edge of shattering. "That street rat was willing to die for you, I could see it in his eyes. His eye. You are no kin of his and yet you have stolen his heart. And yet my own brother...how do you do it? What is it about you that so enchants them?"

Cinderella smiled sadly. "I think...I would have thought that after spending so much time together, you'd understand that it's nothing to do with me at all. It's them. They're all such wonderful people, I'm blessed to have each and every one of them. That they're all so kind as to give me their loyalty, then...I can't take credit for that."

"Don't so tooth-rottingly modest, it doesn't become a victor," Serena muttered. "Will you say that you're blessed with the love of the people, too? Is it luck that there are great crowds outside clamouring for your restoration?"

"I can't explain what I didn't mean to do," Cinderella replied.

Serena snorted. "Indeed. Perhaps you can't. But you did it anyway. Congratulations."

Cinderella didn't say anything. She didn't want to risk saying anything. This was something that Serena needed to come to on her own.

Serena scowled. "I hate you. I hate absolutely everything about you. I hate the way you act like such a simpering ninny sometimes, and even more I hate that you aren't a trembling milksop at all. There's a part of me that wants nothing more than to throw you off that balcony. But instead...instead...instead I ask you, Cinderella, Princess Regent of Armorique, what mercy will you show to me?"

Cinderella let the question hang in the air as she considered her reply. Her instinct, her first impulse, was...she would have liked to say that her first impulse was to be kind, but in truth a moment of reflection on her actions revealed rather that her first impulse tended towards apathy. She had left her Stepmother and stepsisters be, not harming them, but not giving them any favour either. She had allowed Lucien to go, his status unchanged. The first had done her no harm: apathy had been repaid with apathy if Serena spoke the truth. Lucien, though, had repaid her apathetic mercy with yet more betrayal. She had punished him with nothing more than barring him from the palace, and he had proved that he could hurt her from beyond its walls.

What did that mean for Serena? Did it mean that she should embrace harsh punishments, or hope that she was more like Lady Tremaine than Lucien Gerard.

And Lucien, too. Serena had said nothing of him escaping. He was still here. He...she would need to do something about him.

 _I wish Eugene were here. I wish there was someone who could tell me what to do._

 _I wish there was someone I could talk to about this._

There was only her, only Cinderella, Princess Regent of Armorique, alone at the pinnacle, weighing justice and mercy in her hands.

A kind of snorting giggle escaped her lips.

"May I share the joke?" Serena asked warily, as if she feared the joke would be on her.

"It's a little funny, you calling me the Princess Regent," Cinderella said. "You could say that I've already given up that title."

Serena smiled sourly. "Your friends outside probably wouldn't see it the same way; they might even have a point, contracts signed under duress have no power of law. One of the reasons I preferred not to threaten you too blatantly. In any event, I took the liberty of burning all those documents. If you'll take a little advice from an enemy: pretend you have no knowledge of any such thing if there are any questions asked. It will save trouble for you in the long run; it may, at least."

"And what will it save you?" Cinderella asked.

Serena laughed. "Well, now that I've burned the papers you won't be able to prove that I forced you to sign them, will you? Not enough to acquit me of my actions, of course, but it will...lessen my culpability, you might say."

"I see," Cinderella whispered. "You're making the right decision, Serena."

"That depends on you, doesn't it?" Serena replied. "I ask again, what mercy will you show to me?"

"The same mercy that you were going to show me," Cinderella said.

Serena was silent for a moment. "House arrest, exile to a country estate, to be held under guard for..."

"For as long as necessary," Cinderella said softly.

"I see," Serena murmured. "It could be a lot worse, I suppose."

Cinderella didn't feel the need to confirm that truth; it was obvious to both of them.

"I shall miss society," Serena went on. "It may be absurd, it may be poisonous to some, and quite a lot of the people in it are absolutely awful but, at the same time...I shall miss it, in all its gaiety and gossip." She glanced away for a moment. "I truly believe that you would have been happier in the place to which you are sending me, and to which I planned to send you, than you will be here, in this life you now possess."

"If Eugene were there as well you might be right," Cinderella said. "Although I would miss the dancing. But though my heart could be happy wherever Eugene was...my duty is here."

"Duty, of course," Serena said. "My family lands, our titles, incomes?"

"Given to those who deserve them."

Serena smirked. "Very clever of you. You're finally starting to learn the dirty side of this business. My followers?"

"I don't know yet," Cinderella said. "I'll have to decide what each of them deserves."

"Use every man according to his desert and who shall 'scape whipping."

"Hamlet," Cinderella ventured. "Or was it Othello?"

Serena chuckled. "No, your highness, you were right the first time. Nice to see you're beginning to pick up some high culture."

"I'm not a fast learner," Cinderella said. "But I do learn."

"Yes, yes you do, don't you?" Serena muttered. "And Lucien? What will become of him?"

"I told him if he ever came back to the palace I'd have him arrested," Cinderella said.

Serena blinked. "I see. No third chances. Having given your word...yes, you are rather obligated to follow through on it."

"Does that bother you?"

"Frankly, I think he deserves everything he's got coming to him and probably more," Serena said. "How did you stand him, he's such an odious fellow."

"He needed a friend," Cinderella said. "Or at least I thought he did."

Serena nodded. "Very well then, your royal highness: I surrender myself and all of my companions, and throw myself upon your merciful judgement."

* * *

Serena's men were laying down their weapons as Cinderella walked down the steps out of the palace and into the courtyard. Jean, looking a little improved from his injuries of a few days earlier, followed a step behind her, followed in his turn by some of his trusted men released and now rearmed.

Those who had joined together to pull her down, those who had followed Serena and Grace, those gentlemen who had thought that her presence was the worst evil that could befall Armorique, stared at her with a mixture of sullen resentment or silent resignation; but they did not stop laying down their swords and guns.

Beyond the wrought iron gates, Cinderella could see the great crowd gathered to support her, and they could see her too as she began to walk towards them down the steps. They began to cheer her name, some of them began to sign and then...as Cinderella drew closer, they feel silent.

Cinderella could feel their curiosity hanging in the air. She could feel them wondering what was about to happen. They had probably guessed it already, they had to see Serena's men disarming, they could probably see more loyal men, freed after Serena's people had surprised them, re-emerging, but they wanted to know for sure.

They wanted it, seems, for Cinderella to tell them.

Cinderella stopped, just a few paces from the gate, and let the folds of her skirts fall from her hands, and the hem fall to the ground.

Her voice, when it came, felt very quite amidst the curious silence, and not at all as grand as the situation demanded.

"Open the gate, please."

One of Jean's men sprang forward, and with a creaking and a rattling the great iron gates swung inwards. For three days it had been kept shut for fear of what would come flooding in if it were opened, but there was no flood. It was as if a second, invisible gate held the crowd at its barrier.

They waited still.

Cinderella looked at them: man and woman, young and old, even a few children on their mother's shoulders. Working men in smocks and caps, working women with callused hands, wives and mothers with stained aprons, all of them looked at her, pressing close to the archway of stone, jostling to see through the tunnel it created.

"Thank you," Cinderella said. "Thank you all so much. Without you, without each and every one of you...I don't know what I would have done. I...I'm still not sure that I deserve the kindness that you've shown me, the loyalty that you've shown me. But you have shown it, and because you've shown it I'm free again. And so I say again: thank you, thank you so much. I promise that I will never forget this for as long as I live."

There was a moment of silence, a moment in which Cinderella feared that she had said the wrong thing, or not enough. And then the crowd began to cheer.

"Hurrah for Princess Cinderella!"

"Three cheers for the Princess of Hearts!"

"God save you, your highness!"

"God save the King," Cinderella replied. "And God save Armorique!"

"God save Armorique!" they cried. "God save Armorique!"

Cinderella smiled, and took a step towards them.

"Your highness," Jean warned. "Is that wise?"

Cinderella looked back at him. "Nobody's going to hurt me Jean. I'm safe with them." To be sure, she would be safer than she had turned out to be with many fine lords and ladies.

She walked into the crowd, and they parted before her like Moses parting the Red Sea. A space was made around her, the jostling press making way before her and flowing back around her as though some magical force repelled all other presence. And yet, at the same time, those same people who made way so as not to crowd her reached out for her, and touched her dress of brushed their fingertips against her arm, and called her name.

It was all so much. It was all, all too much. And yet at the same time it was so exhilarating. For so long, in the palace and the houses of the great, languishing in sickness, wasting away, she had been told that she was hated, she had read nothing but criticism of her, heard nothing so much of her mistakes, been turned on by those she had wished to call friends so now...Yes, it was overwhelming: all these faces, all these voices. But at the same time, see those smiles, to hear those cheers, to see and hear and know beyond all doubt that she was loved by so many.

At that moment, Cinderella could not deny that it was exactly what she needed.


	42. Wonderful News

Wonderful News

The world was grey with the pale light of dawn as the ship pulled in to harbour, with rigging creaking and the ship's bell tolling across the quiet city. Ropes were cast off, the ship was moored upon the dock, and a long wooden plank was extended down from the vessel to the jetty beside.

Brigadier General Etienne Gerard was swathed in a blue cloak that went down below his knees and concealed his entire body from view. More importantly, it also concealed the satchel of despatches that he was carrying from prying eyes.

His boots echoed upon the wooden plank, which creaked beneath him as he walked down it.

His sharp eyes looked over the grey and mist-enshrouded harbour. Few people were awake, and there were few lamps visible. In the palace, probably the only people awake right now were servants.

Much the same could probably be said about anywhere that he might go.

He had been sent home with an important mission and yet…for probably the first time in his life the person that Etienne most wanted to see was his brother.

So he could kill him.

* * *

Cinderella sat at the King's bedside, with a book open on her lap, reading to him in a soft, clear voice.

A little time had passed since the failure of Serena's attempt to seize power and cast down Cinderella. Serena herself had been taken to a royal estate just beyond the forest of Lorient, to be held there in comfortable isolation, attended on by servants loyal to the crown and not to her and guarded by royal troops. Her brother Anatole, along with Grace, was still missing; attempts to find them had ended in failure. Their disappearance had not, however, stopped all of their titles being forfeit and their lands becoming property of the crown.

Of the other schemers, those who had followed where Serena led, Cinderella had mostly been merciful. She had collected fines from them, quite stinging fines in some cases, which she had donated entirely to her foundation for wounded veterans (it made up for the failure of the great and the good to contribute much to that cause voluntarily) but other than that she had not confiscated lands or possessions on a grand scale, nor had she revoked any titles.

Nevertheless, many of those involved had found it wise to stay away from court for a while, until it all blew over.

Lucien…Lucien remained in the Gatehouse. Cinderella didn't know what to do with him. She felt…after she had been merciful to others, didn't she have an obligation to be merciful to him as well? How could she be cruel to Lucien when she had let everyone else involved go with leniency. And yet…she wasn't sure that she wanted to be lenient to Lucien. Perhaps it was wrong of her to feel this way, but what he had done felt worse to her than what even Serena had done to her. They had both betrayed her, they had both pretended to be Cinderella's friend but what Lucien had done…the things that he had said about her and caused to be written about her…it had hurt her more than Serena's betrayal or that of Grace, it had made her feel…she knew in her heart that she shouldn't want to punish him for what he had done to her.

But she did. And while that war raged in her heart Lucien languished in the dungeon.

Marinette hadn't spoken about him. If she had asked Cinderella to be merciful then Cinderella would have found it hard to refuse her, but she had not asked. She appeared to be waiting for Cinderella to make up her mind.

She might wait a long time.

As for Cinderella herself…apart from the continuing torment over what she ought to do about Lucien she was in much better health than she had been before. With the symptoms of her illness disappeared she had, thankfully, recovered quickly. Her cheeks were as rosy as they had been before, and could she look in the mirror and recognise herself rather than seeing a shambling ghostly phantom of a girl.

It also meant that she was well enough to attend to His Majesty herself, and to spend time with Philippe again now that he had come back to the palace (his grandmother had taken him back to her own house, where they had been found safe once everything had calmed down).

And so she was with the King, reading to him, when suddenly she heard him speak.

"I…I know you."

The book dropped from Cinderella's hands to land on the floor with a thump. "Your majesty?" she gasped. He hadn't spoken since he became ill. Sometimes he would make some sort of noise, or stir, but he had never spoken before. But now…his voice was soft and faint, but still…he had spoken.

Cinderella stood up, leaning over his form as he lay on the bed. "Your majesty, can you hear me?"

His Majesty blinked, and a fond smile came to his aged face. Again he spoke, and though his voice was quiet Cinderella could hear him nonetheless. "I know you. I think…I think you are my son's wife, Cinderella."

Cinderella smiled, and a sigh of relief escaped her lips. "Yes. Yes, your majesty, it's me. It's Cinderella. Oh, oh thank goodness you're…how do you feel, your majesty?"

"I feel," he murmured. "I feel…as absurd as it sounds, I feel tired."

Cinderella chuckled. "It's not absurd at all, your majesty." She turned to the door. "Quick! Somebody!"

The door opened at once and a liveried equerry rushed in with a panicking expression on his face.

"Get the doctor, quickly please," Cinderella said. "The king has awoken."

"He…awake?" the servant gasped, and it occurred to Cinderella that her tone of voice and her demand for someone to come quickly…she might have given him cause to assume the worst.

"Yes, he's awake," Cinderella said. "If the doctor could come at once, I'm sure that we'd all very much appreciate it."

"Of course, your highness," he said, before he left.

His Majesty grunted. "How…how long have I been…what day is it? What have I missed?" He tried to push himself up upon his elbows.

"None of that matters now, your majesty," Cinderella said. "There's no need to get up now, you should try and rest-"

"Young lady, I appear to have been resting for quite some time," His Majesty muttered, with some of his old insistent vigour entering his voice. "Has anything important happened while I have been 'resting'?"

"I, uh, here, let me help you," Cinderella said, helping the King to sit up in bed and rest upon his pillow. Now they were come to it. This was always going to happen as soon as His Majesty recovered. And yet now that it had come…where should she even begin? She had done what she thought was right, but having to tell His Majesty about it.

 _Well, your majesty, I sold one of your islands to the Normans in exchange for troops to help Eugene in his war; I caused the premier to resign and then had him back again a few weeks later; I upset so many of the nobility that they tried to overthrow me; I changed one of the key policies of your government…and I'd do it all over again if I had to because I believe that I was right._

How would that go down? How could she avoid seeing for herself when she told him?

"Cinderella," he asked softly. "Is something the matter?"

Cinderella sat back down again at his bedside. "It…with your majesty ill, and Eugene away…I…they made me Princess Regent. I guess, I…I'm not sure how much you'll approve of what I've done."

He smiled slightly. "There is only one way to tell, isn't there?"

Cinderella laughed quietly. "Yes. Yes, your majesty, you're quite right. There is only one way."

"Do you regret anything that you've done?"

"Some things," Cinderella confessed. "But not all. I'm just…could you please remember that I did the best I could."

"That's all any king can do, even in the best of times," His Majesty said. "Come, tell me everything."

Cinderella told him everything. She told him about her being named regent, and about the lies that Lucien had spread about her – she begged him to believe that they were lies, really – in the newspapers. She told him about her illness, and about her arguments with the privy council, and about Sieur Robert's resignation and return to office. She told him about the Corn Laws, and about the veterans' fund. She told him about Serena and Grace and what had gone on when they tried to seize power. She told him everything that she could wish to know, and waited for his judgement.

She bowed her head. "I…I…"

"I for one am very impressed."

Cinderella looked up. "Your majesty?"

His Majesty was smiling at her. _Smiling._ "From many lips I wouldn't believe all the things that you've just told me; but I don't believe that you would lie to me."

"I'm not lying," Cinderella murmured.

"Then you have many reasons to be proud of yourself," he said. "And none at all to be ashamed."

Cinderella's mouth hung open for a moment. "You…really? But…I mean I…you approve?"

"You didn't always make the decisions that I would have made-"

"Oh."

"But there is no reason at all why you should have had to," His Majesty continued. "Cinderella, being a monarch – even the very best of monarchs, and I am no so arrogant as to claim that title for myself – is nothing more or less than doing what you think is right, and doing what seems best at the time. You did that and, judging by what you told me, it seems to have worked out rather well in the end."

Cinderella sighed with relief. She hadn't realised until that moment quite how nervous she had been of the King's opinion of her actions. To hear that he approved, or at least that he didn't hate any of the decisions that she had made or the actions that she had undertaken…it meant more to her than she could say.

"Thank you, your majesty," Cinderella murmured. "Thank you…thank you so much."

"I should be the one thanking you," he said. "You have kept the kingdom together in my absence, and you may even have helped Eugene in his war. You've faced things that would have discombobulated many a prince."

"How many of those things happened as the result of my mistakes?" Cinderella asked.

"Cinderella," His Majesty said sternly. "In my hearing, Eugene has only ever had one complaint about you: that you are much too hard on yourself. I told you that you should be proud of what you have accomplished and I meant it. We princes liked to affect that we are closer to God than other men, but in the end we are more man than God, and being man we make mistakes as all men do. I will not deny that you have erred: you have been too trusting sometimes, and too kind…but you have made good all your mistakes and achieved such successes…" He held out his hand to her. "When…when my son presented you to me, and told me that he intended to make you his wife…I was delighted that he would be married but, I confess, I thought that you were only a beautiful girl. But you have shown that you are so much more…I couldn't be prouder to call you my daughter in law."

A smile blossomed across Cinderella's lips as she took the King's hand and squeezed it affectionately. "Your majesty, I…thank you."

Cinderella heard the footsteps running down the corridor before the door burst open and a servant ran in. "Your…your majesty, your highness."

"Yes," Cinderella said. "Is the doctor on his way?"

"I'm sure, princess, but that's not why I'm here," the servant gasped. He took a deep breath. "Colonel, no, General Gerard has arrived from America and requests an immediate audience."

 _Colonel…General Gerard? He's here? From America?_

 _Does that mean…is Eugene alright? Has he won? Has he lost?_

 _Will he be coming home soon?_

Cinderella's heart was in her mouth, she could not speak. If she tried to speak then she would make a fool of herself. She looked to His Majesty.

"Send him in!" the King cried. "Send him in!"

Etienne Gerard arrived quickly, or as quickly as could have been expected in the circumstances, striding briskly down the hall with a long cloak swirling behind him and tangling sometimes with the sword which he held out of the way of his legs. He stood in the doorway of the royal bedroom, and bowed from the waist. "Your majesty, I am glad to see that your health appears to be improving. Your highness, you look very well."

"Thank you, colo- I'm terribly sorry; thank you, general."

"You have no need to apologise at all, your highness."

"Enough of these pleasantries!" His Majesty might have been trying to roar or bellow, it came out as a mild shout at best; clearly he was not fully recovered to his previous strength. "What news from America? What news of our army, what news of my son?"

Cinderella was still holding on to the King's hand, and she found that she was squeezing it for reassurance against what might come next out of Etienne's mouth.

But then Etienne smiled, a rare sight upon his dour face. "Your majesty, Princess Cinderella, it gives me great pleasure to inform you that the war is won."

Cinderella gasped. One hand flew to her heart, hovering above it like the guardian angel who had surely kept Eugene safe and granted him this victory. "Won?" she whispered, as though to speak louder would break the spell. "You mean...Eugene's coming home?" She half imagined - half hoped at least - that he was here already, and that sending Etienne on ahead of him was some kind of joke or something. He would spring out now and take her in his arms and everything would be perfect at last.

"Not quite yet, I'm afraid," Etienne said, not unkindly, as though he had guessed a little of what Cinderella was hoping for. He reached into the leather satchel that he wore over his shoulder and produced a sealed letter, which he held out to the King as he advanced upon the royal bed. "Inside this letter your majesty will find the terms of the armistice agreed between His Royal Highness Prince Eugene-"

"Yes, I know who my son is, thank you," grumbled His Majesty.

"And General Lafayette commanding the rebel forces," Etienne continued, as though His Majesty had not interrupted. "I am sent to consult Your Majesty upon the terms of their surrender before it is formalised, and discussion of the new relationship between Armorique and the colonies takes place."

The King's bushy white eyebrows rose. "The future relationship?"

"Things cannot simply return to the way they were before," Etienne said. "The grievances that led to war must be addressed in some part if peace is to prevail."

"Very handsome words, general. Do they belong to you or to my son?"

Etienne glanced at Cinderella. "It would appear that marriage to a good woman has taught his highness the value of a fair compromise."

His Majesty snorted. "I will read and consider the terms of this armistice and let you know my thoughts that you may take them back to America...in two or three days time. Until then, you may consider yourself at liberty, General. My messengers will find you at your house in town?"

Etienne stared down at His Majesty for a moment. "Y-yes, your majesty, they will; or if not, I will send you to know where. I also, of course, have personal letters for the both of you from his highness the prince." He produced them from his satchel.

Cinderella snatched hers up with an indecent haste. "Thank you, co- general. Before you go...could I please speak to you for a moment, when I am finished here."

Etienne bowed his head. "As you wish, highness, I will wait outside."

"Best not waste your time, general," the King declared. "The princess and I are likely to be occupied for a while yet; she will send for you when she is free to talk."

"Your majesty?" Cinderella asked.

Etienne bowed again. "In that case I take my leave until required. Majesty, highness."

He closed the door behind him.

His Majesty smiled up at her. "Did you imagine, my dear, that now that I could open my eyes and form words with my lips that I would take on all burdens again and you would...what? Go back to dancing?"

"I...I suppose I thought so, your majesty."

The King chuckled. "I will need your help for a while longer, Cinderella, if you are willing."

"Of course, your majesty, I'll do anything I can."

"If I had accepted your help earlier then I might not be in this position," His Majesty said ruefully. "As I'm no longer sure where my reading glasses may be will you please read me this armistice before you tear open Eugene's letter as you want to?"

"Of course, your majesty," Cinderella said, containing her impatience as she sat down again and broken open the seal on the envelope.

She read the chivalrous terms that Eugene had offered to his enemies, including the right to keep their horses and the officers their swords; as General Gerard had suggested it also included provisions for a more formal peace that would grant the Louisiana some of what they had been fighting for in the first place. While His Majesty mulled over his response to that, Cinderella also read him Eugene's letter, full of pious filial feelings alongside an admission that his father might not be able to read or even hear to understand his words for some time, but he felt driven to write them anyway. Cinderella, who had a great many unsent letters to Eugene sitting in her chambers, could well understand how he felt.

With that done, Cinderella was able to open Eugene's letter to her. She felt calmer now, reassured by Etienne's news and by the confident tone of which Eugene had written to his father. But nevertheless, she could still feel a trace of nervousness. She hadn't heard from Eugene since she had written to him about Lucien's transgressions. He would certainly have heard other accounts of her behaviour. Who would he believe? What would he say to her?

He had not mentioned her at all in his letter to his father. Was that because he was disgusted with what he perceived to be her behaviour, or simply because it was a letter to his father?

What would he say?

 _You are too hard on yourself, everyone tells you so. Trust him. He will believe you because he loves you._

 _I hope._

 _Just read the letter and find out!_

Cinderella took the letter of its envelope. "Your Majesty, um, do you-"

He shook his head. "I have no desire to eavesdrop on what passes between you two."

"Thank you, your majesty," Cinderella murmured, before she looked down and began to read.

 _Beloved Cinderella,_

 _How could you think that I would not believe you? Though the whole world told me otherwise, I would believe you if you told me you were true to me. I need only look into your eyes to see the love you bear within them._

 _And God willing I will see those eyes for myself before too long._

 _I am so sorry, Cinderella. I am sorry for all that you have endured in my absence._

Cinderella reflected that he didn't know the half of it; she didn't know whether to laugh or cry about that. In the end she did neither, but read on.

 _I am sorry for everything that you have had to bear, and I am sorry for everything that you have had to do. Most of all I am sorry for everything that has happened to you while I have been away. I cannot say that it wouldn't have happened if I had been with you but maybe it would not. I am sorry._

 _All I can do is reassure you that I believe you. You are right that some gossip circulated around the camp, but I take no notice of it. I've tried to do something about it here, but I have no control over people's thoughts._

 _I have to say that I agree with everybody telling you that you should have had Lucien arrested. When I read what he did to you I yearn to give him a horsewhipping, and that is nothing compared to what Etienne says he will do to him once he gets home._

 _And so we come to what I very much hope will seem to you - as it does to me - to be happier news. The war is almost won, and I am almost home. I do not think it will be long now, although Etienne must travel across the ocean and back before I may undertake the journey once with all my men. Your Norman troops have proven very helpful, thanks to them I had enough manpower to hold the key cities and pursue the enemy. Eventually we wore him down and he requested terms. I mean to be generous, and even to correct if I can some of the problems that brought us to this pass._

 _You have always been more sympathetic to the plight of the colonists than myself. I suspect that is simply because you are a kinder person than I am, and feel the burdens and sufferings of others more deeply than I do; but I have tried to learn from your example, and I hope that we may bind up the wounds of war so that war will not occur again._

 _I hope, I very much hope, that you are making me a better man._

 _I long to return to you, Cinderella. I long to see your face and hold you once again._

 _Today, that return no longer seems so very far away._

 _Yours, always,_

 _Eugene_

Cinderella let out a great sigh of relief. It was alright. It was all quite alright. Eugene believed her and he was safe and he was coming home and back to her very soon.

Was this her reward? After everything that had happened to her, everything that had been done to her was she now being rewarded? Was everything going to turn out alright from now on?

She hoped so. She couldn't express in words how much she hoped so.

"Is all well?" asked His Majesty.

"Yes," Cinderella said happily. "Yes, your majesty, all is very well indeed."

"I'm delighted to hear it," he said. "A perfect wife is a thing to be envied by those who do not have it, and to be appreciated by those who do."

Cinderella looked away. "I'm...your majesty is too kind."

"Perhaps," he said. "But you deserve a little kindness after all that you've been through. Especially since I must now put you to work once again: have you decided what to do with the de Montcalm and du Villeroi lands and titles yet?"

"No, your majesty."

"If you would give it some thought I would appreciate it very much. I will do whatever you suggest in this."

"Really?"

"You know better than I who deserves reward for their conduct recently," the King said. "Remember that the lands can be broken up, as can the titles if you wish."

"I'll give it very careful thought, your majesty."

"Good girl," the King said. "And now, if you'll excuse me for a while, I find that lying in bed has not been very restful too me."

"Of course, your majesty. Send for me if there is anything you need."

Cinderella left His Majesty alone for a while, descending the staircase only to be surprised by the sight of General Gerard waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

"General," Cinderella murmured. "How long have you been waiting for me?"

"Since I was finished speaking with Marinette," Etienne said. "I knew that I needed to apologise to you but I had no idea how much I needed to apologise for. I had no idea...she told me quite a tale."

Cinderella chuckled. "Yes...it has been very dramatic around here lately."

"I'm very sorry, your highness. For everything that my brother did to you."

"You aren't your brother, you don't owe me an apology for what he did."

"My family does," Etienne replied. "And as the head of the family...I'm so sorry. May I say how grateful I am you didn't take your frustration out on Marinette."

Cinderella descended the last few steps. "Do you think that I'm the sort of person who would do such a thing?"

Etienne regarded her for a moment. "No," he said. "But thank you anyway."

"Marinette has been wonderful," Cinderella said. "How much did she tell you?"

"All of it, I think," Etienne said.

"I'm...I suppose I'm glad," Cinderella murmured. "I'm not sure I want to tell it a second time."

"You will have to tell Eugene," Etienne said. "I can't keep it from him when I return, and..."

"I will give you a letter to take back with you, if that's alright."

"Of course," Etienne replied. "I would be honoured to be your messenger. I...I do owe you a personal apology, it seems I have grievously underestimated you. You've done so much more than keep the seat warm for His Majesty and Prince Eugene."

Cinderella giggled. "If you underestimated me, general, it's only because everyone else did too."

"Perhaps, but a gentleman doesn't hide his culpability amongst a crowd," Etienne said.

"It doesn't matter," Cinderella said. "It's all in the past now, and anyway...you were far from the worst. General?"

"Yes?"

"How...His Majesty has asked me to decide who will recieve the lands and titles confiscated from the de Montcalms and du Villeroi's and..."

Etienne's eyebrows rose. His eyes bulged. "Your highness...is considering me?"

"You're a war hero, and a friend of Eugene's," Cinderella said. "I'm sure you'd be a popular choice."

"Your highness is too kind by far."

"So I've been told, but I don't think that has to be a fault, do you?"

Etienne laughed. "Indeed no. Your highness is generous as well as kind but...I couldn't accept, even if you made the offer formally."

"You don't want it?"

"The wife of a landed peer could never continue to work, certainly not in a shop," Etienne said. "I wouldn't want to make Lucrecia choose between me and her passion. And yet...if I might ask a favour of your highness?"

"What is it?"

"There is an estate called Dowlaix; it belonged to my family until...I sold it to the de Montcalms to pay off my father's debts to them. If I could have it back...we all have very happy memories of the place. And if I'm wrong..." he smiled sheepishly. "Lucrecia won't have to work if she doesn't want to."

"Consider it yours," Cinderella said. "Although that still leaves me with a lot of land to give away."

"A fine problem to have if one must have problems," Etienne said. "If...if you wish to reward a Gerard there is always Marinette."

"Could I?"

"If the king agrees your highness can do whatever she likes." Etienne was quiet for a moment. "May I ask...what do you intend to do about Lucien?"

"I...I really don't know."

"I...I don't like him very much but I'd rather not see him hanged."

"I don't want to hang anyone," Cinderella replied. "I let him go, the first time...and he repaid me with..."

"I know," Etienne murmured. "If I may...your highness could let me take him."

"Take him?"

"Back to America with me, when I return in a few days time," Etienne explained. "In the colonies they say a man can start anew, and across the ocean he would never trouble you again."

"That...that sounds like an excellent idea. Have you been to see Lucrecia yet?"

"Not yet."

"Then go to her," Cinderella said. "Now."

Etienne grinned. "Gladly, but if you can spare Marinette briefly, there is another call that I must pay first."

* * *

Etienne had one arm around Marinette's shoulder as they walked together into the sitting room, where they found their mother, well, sitting in front of the fireplace.

Maman's eyes widened at the sight of him. "Etienne? Etienne, you have returned, I-" she looked at Marinette. "What is she doing here?"

"She is your daughter," Etienne said coldly. "Or have you forgotten that."

"She is not welcome in my house-"

"It's my house, as it happens," Etienne declared, cutting across her objection. "And Marinette is always welcome in it."

Mother rose unsteadily to her feet, leaning upon her ebony walking stick. "What did she tell you? What lies has she fed you?"

"Lies, is it?" Etienne snapped. "Mother…you've always coddled and indulged Lucien, but to stand by him while he…God almighty, I never thought that you'd defend him in this."

"He's my son!" she cried. "My good boy, my sweet boy and he…that woman has led him astray!"

"Oh for God's sake," Etienne muttered in disgust. "I can't even…is there nothing that can be said to convince you of the truth? Would no proof convince you? Do you really believe that her highness has locked Lucien in the gatehouse out of baseless malice?"

"He is my son," she said.

Etienne stared at her for a moment. He did not want to say it…he would rather face a battalion of rebel line of foot than ask her if she did not consider he, too, to be her son.

"You had no right to banish Marinette from the house," he said. "From my house. It is only due to the kind heart of princess-"

"Do not speak her name to me, that little-"

"I will speak her name, Princess Cinderella," Etienne said. "And you will not insult her."

"You interrupt me at every turn, am I no longer allowed to open my mouth?"

"I won't allow you to slander someone who has done nothing to deserve it," Etienne said. "There has been quite enough of that going on in my absence." He sighed. "I will be leaving for America in a day or two…and Lucien will be going with me."

Madame Gerard's mouth hung open. "You…no. No, God, no."

"It isn't so bad, Maman," Marinette said. "He can start afresh, in a new world."

"You have always wanted to be rid of him, haven't you?"

"Mother!" Etienne shouted. "That's enough. I have..." he let his arm fall from Marinette's shoulder as he turned away. "Perhaps you should consider leaving the capital, for a while at least. You could retire to Dowlaix. Perhaps the country air will agree with you."

Silence descended on the sitting room for a moment.

"Dowlaix," Madame Gerard murmured. "Dowlaix, is-"

"Recovered, by the generosity of Princess Cinderella," Etienne said. "You may visit there again…as soon as you like. It has been a few years."

He glanced back at her. His mother held his gaze. They both knew what he was not saying. They both understood what was not being put into words.

Madame Gerard nodded. "Yes, of course. It has been many years since I last stayed there. When your dear father were still with me, before all of our troubles. I do hope that it's new owners have not cut down the cypress trees lining the road. And the two sycamores, where I used to read to Lucien in the shade. Yes, to see Dowlaix again, that will be very nice…so many memories."

"Yes, memories," Etienne murmured. "I hope…I hope they give you joy."


	43. Heroes' Return

Heroes' Return

Angelique had a new dress. It was lavender, which Cinderella and Mademoiselle Adessi both told her suited her, though Angelique didn't know enough about such things to say if they were right or wrong. It was quite comfortable to wear though, more so than some of the dresses she had been forced into.

The new dress was a gift, from the princess who had given her so much lately. Perhaps too much. She had already given Jean a future, that was enough, she didn't have to give Angelique even more. Especially...especially since she didn't feel as though she deserved it.

She tugged on one of the curls hanging down her face. The entire country was celebrating and here she was suffering a crisis of confidence. It was absolutely ridiculous.

There was a knock on the door. "Angelique? Can I come in?"

"No, you can't, I'm not decent."

"Oh," Jean murmured. "Oh, well I'll come back later then."

Angelique chuckled. "It's fine, Jean, come in."

"That wouldn't be very proper, would it?"

Angelique rolled her eyes. "I was joking. Honestly! Get in here."

The door opened and Jean walked inside. He was wearing his fancy uniform, with a lot of gold braid across his chest. His boots were polished, as were his brass buttons and the badge on the shako that he held tucked under his arm. And all that gold braid. Angelique concluded that it wouldn't take much more effort to make him gleam.

Jean shut the door behind him softly, and then turned to look at her. A smile spread across his face. "You look lovely."

Angelique felt a flush rise to her cheeks. "Really? Well...thank you. You...you look very dashing."

Jean puffed out his chest like a cockatoo. "I'm glad you think so."

Angelique grinned at him for a moment, before the smile faded from her face. "Have you been sent to get me? Am I holding everybody up?"

"No," Jean said at once. "The last I heard the princess was still getting ready herself. I just...I wanted to see that you were alright?"

"Alright? Why wouldn't I be alright?"

Jean put down his shako on Angelique's bed, and walked towards her. "You don't seem alright. You've been...quiet, lately."

Angelique looked at him for a moment before she turned away, shuffling around on the stool so that she was facing the mirror again. "Could you help me with his necklace, please?" That was another gift from Cinderella, even though Angelique could afford her own necklaces now: a pearl necklace on a golden chain.

Jean picked it up off the dressing table and gently, slowly draped it around her neck before fastening the clasp. "Angelique," she said softly. "What's wrong?"

Angelique frowned. "I suppose I don't like the fact that I failed and got rewarded for it anyway."

"Failed?" Jean's voice was incredulous. "If this is failure then...Angelique, we won. Princess Cinderella is safe and happy, Prince Eugene comes home, the King is well-"

"And what did I have to do with any of that?" Angelique asked. "I said I was going to protect Cinderella, I said I was going to defend her from her enemies...but what did I actually do, in the end? It was the people who stopped Serena and Grace, not me. Lucien Gerard exposed himself."

"You caught Theodora," Jean reminded her.

Angelique scowled dismissively. "Theodora was a gnat."

"You found that board in Grace's room," Jean said. "Without that, who knows if the princess would have recovered her health or if..."

"Perhaps," Angelique admitted. "But...it feels so small compared to everything else, to everything that was done to her, to everything...to everything."

Jean put one hand on her shoulder. "When Princess Cinderella needed a friend, or somebody that she could rely on...you were always there."

"And you think I deserve to be made a lady for that?" Angelique asked. That was the crux of it. His Majesty - acting, as all of Armorique knew, on Cinderella's recommendation - had bestowed upon her land and title from the property seized from the de Montcalm family. She wasn't plain old Angelique Bonnet any longer. She was Angelique, Countess Cherbourg; or Lady Bonnet and there were probably other ways of saying it as well. She had a country estate and lands and interests in an iron works all worth, they told her, ten thousand a year. It seemed...it seemed a little too much in the way of reward for very little.

Jean had been similarly rewarded. He was Count of Nantes now, master of the rest of the de Montcalm estate; where Angelique now possessed the country chateau, Jean had gotten the townhouse, and where Angelique had an interest in an ironworks Jean possessed a coal mine. It came to some nine thousand a year for him, less than her new income for all that Jean seemed more deserving of reward. He'd actually saved Cinderella's life, and more than once too.

The du Villeroi lands had gone to Marinette, now Countess of Lorient. It was a pity that her mother couldn't appreciate that the princess she disdained had made her daughter one of the most eligible maids in the whole country.

"I think," Jean hesitated for a moment. "I think that her highness is not obliged to justify herself to us or to anybody else. And I think...I think that when so many are false and treacherous, as so many around the princess have proven to be, then the act of being loyal becomes something precious. You and Lady Gerard are all that she has left."

"She'll have her husband soon enough."

Jean snorted. "That is not the same thing, Angelique, as well you know." He grinned. "Are you ready, m'lady?"

Angelique stared at him. Her eyebrows rose.

Jean stared back.

Angelique cracked first, dissolving into a giggle. "How long until that stops sounding ridiculous, do you think?"

Jean shrugged.

Angelique shook her head. "Alright, I'm ready. Will you take my hand, milord?"

"Gladly, my l-"

"That's enough for now," Angelique said firmly as she slipped her hand into his palm.

* * *

Frederica hummed to herself as she was fastened up into her emerald gown.

To be fair to herself, she had a lot of things to hum about.

Hispaniola belonged to Normandie now, and fairly won. She had already received a handsome letter from Prince Eugene in which – aside from apologising to her for thinking that she had attempted to kill Cinderella (Frederica felt a little guilty about that, but not too much) – he had praised the courage and constancy of the Norman forces sent to America. They would return home with the victors' laurel bright upon their brows, and with a wealthy island now in the possession of the Norman crown.

And that had led to a second letter, one that even now sat on her dressing table: a letter from her father.

It was in code, as all of their communication was, and it told her that she was no longer required to return to Normandie, as he had previously commanded.

It also confirmed that there would be no more attempts upon the life of Princess Cinderella. Not out of gratitude – Frederica was sure that her father had none of that – but because, flushed with the sugar and coffee wealth of Hispaniola, her father's greed had been sated to the point that a royal match with Armorique no longer seemed so necessary.

He didn't say anywhere that he was proud of what she had accomplished, but then Frederica hadn't expected that he would.

Though she might have liked it if he had.

The war was won, the war was done, and two kingdoms had profited from the outcome. Overall, Frederica felt that she had ever reason to feel pleased with herself.

And she had done so without harming Cinderella physically or, so it seemed, mentally. Yes, Frederica felt pleased with herself.

She meant to stay here, in Armorique. She was not required back home, and at the moment she had no desire to go anywhere else. The delights of the riviere tempted her not, war-ravaged Burgundy was right out, and as for Anjou…no, it would be Armorique for her for the foreseeable future.

With her best friend so close at hand, why would she want to go anywhere else?

Frederica had not grown up blessed with many friends. She was the King's daughter, and the king was a tyrant. Her brother was preoccupied with his training to one day assume the throne, Frederica's own childhood had revolved around her education. And when she was grown up, when she went out into the world…everyone assumed she was a spy, that she had an ulterior motive, that she was up to something dastardly.

The fact that it was sometimes true didn't make the assumption any less aggravating.

But Cinderella…Cinderella was different. She saw the good in people, even when they perhaps didn't deserve to have the good in them seen. She had trusted Frederica. And Frederica…she would repay that trust, and prove worthy of it.

She would be a good friend to Armorique's princess.

It meant no offence to say that she could use another one.

Frederica would stay here, for now.

She would stay and be happy.

* * *

"Thank you, for helping me get ready," Lucrecia murmured. "I so rarely get the chance to wear any of my own creations."

"It's no trouble," Marinette replied, with equal softness. "I used to help my mother get ready all the time."

"Still," Lucrecia said. "It's perfectly absurd, the counters helping the dresssmaker get ready."

Marinette hesitated for a moment, and the she turned Lucrecia around so that the two women were facing one another. They were of a height, and their eyes met directly.

"We...I think that...We helped each other," Marinette declared. "Because...that's What sisters do, isn't it? And counters or no we will be sisters very soon."

Lucrecia smiled. "Very, very soon, I hope."

"Etienne is a general now, I am sure that there is nothing left to prevent your marriage."

Lucrecia could not restrain a slight snort from escaping her lips. "There was never anything to prevent our marriage but Etienne's pride."

Marinette smiled. "I...I love him, but, I could believe that. But he seems to have overcome it somehow." She paused for a moment. "If he had not, I would not be the counters. Does it...do you mind?"

Lucrecia' s eyebrow rose. "Do I mind what?"

"That Etienne turned down a chance to become a Lord," Marinette said. "You could have become a great lady."

Lucrecia covered her mouth as she laughed. "And what would the hypothetical Lady Lucrecia Gerard do? Sit around a great house getting bored? Attend parties where I could be snubbed by snobs? I would be in the position of her highness, without either the protection of her rank or the consolation of her power and influence."

"You're filling me with confidence," Marinette muttered. " Did you tell Cinderella that was what she was in for?"

"I didn't mean to discourage you!" Lucrecia said hastily. "I just meant...I thought that her highness might...seeing the way she has been treated...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"I understand," Marinette said. "I suppose...my father was a gentleman. As long as you're happy..."

"I am," Lucrecia declared. She waved around the interior of her shop. "This is where I belong, I've always known that." She smiled. "And besides, if I retired to a life of aristocratic leisure, who would make the princess look even lovelies than nature intended?"

Marinette chuckled at that.

"You know, It's funny," Lucrecia said. "Everything...It was all down to her highness. If she had not been a newcomer to the court she would already have had a dressmaker. If I had not become her dressmaker then you would not have come to me and I would never have met Etiene. Funny, isn't It, how these things happen?"

"We both owe her everything we have, and are," Marinette agreed. "How can we repay?"

"As we always have," Lucrecia said. "With good service."

Marinette nodded. "Agreed."

* * *

Cinderella's hair was brushed and arranged, curled into the elegant twist of rolls that sat upon her head like a tiara, descending on the sparkling silver hairband that sat upon her head. Her lips were painted a pale pink, her cheeks were blushed to a rosy hue, and her eyes were covered with a smoky grey shadow.

She was ready.

Her gown was white, covered in lace sewn into flowery patters that wove across her bodice, and stitched through bodice and skirt alike with glittering diamonds. The ballgown spread out across her dressing stool, engulfing it from sight on three sides. The sleeves were capped, a nice touch that reminded Cinderella of the gown that her fairy godmother had made for her, the gown in which she had met Eugene. Hopefully it would remind him of the same thing.

The border of the bustle was stitched with red roses, eleven red roses in all, running from the centre of the waistline down along the curves of the bustle, while six white roses ran along the neckline of the gown to compliment the flowery patterns on the bodice. Opera gloves of soft white silk concealed her arms from view.

Cinderella was quite prepared to admit that she was wearing too much jewellery. But it the was first time that she'd seen Eugene in months; more importantly it the was the first time in months that he had seen her, and she wanted to dazzle him out of his wits when he beheld her again at long last. That was allowed, wasn't it? She was allowed to want to look her best at a time like this, even if it did mean wearing a few too many diamonds on her arms as a mix of diamond and sapphire bracelets crawled upwards from her wrists, as no fewer than three necklaces embraced her neck: first a diamond choker sitting high upon her throat, not far below her chin, then her pearl-and-sapphire-heart necklace that Eugene had given her for their wedding day, then her long pearl necklace with its sapphire pendant descending towards the swooping neckline of the gown. Her earrings were diamond, with a trio of teardrop-shaped pearls dangling down beneath them.

A little much, probably. Indulgent, certainly. But Cinderella liked it, and she had every hope that Eugene would feel the same way.

She was ready.

"Almost done, ma'am," Duchamp murmured, though what remained to be done remained also a mystery to Cinderella before she said, "There's only the tiara left."

"No tiara today, thank you, Duchamp," Cinderella said.

"Ma'am?"

Cinderella smiled at her. "I want to be able to hug Eugene without stabbing him with my crown."

Duchamp smirked. "I quite understand, ma'am. No tiara then, on this occasion. In that case, I think you're ready."

"Yes, I think so too. Thank you, Duchamp," Cinderella said, as she regarded herself in the mirror. She looked, as far as she could tell, just as she had done before her bout of illness. "Do I…do you think I look any different, Duchamp?" she asked. "Do you think I look as I did, before Eugene went away? Am I as I was when we were married?"

Duchamp was silent for a moment. "I think, ma'am, that no one would deny there is a noticeable difference to the girl who I was first set to wait upon."

It took Cinderella a moment to work out what Duchamp meant. She chuckled. "That's very kind of you to say."

"No more than the truth, ma'am."

"Perhaps, but I've learned that even speaking the truth can be kind," Cinderella said. "Especially when so many people lie." Cinderella's gaze returned to her reflection. So much had happened to her since Eugene had placed a ring upon her finger and asked her to be his bride. So many betrayals, so much hurt…but so much joy as well, new friends, new discoveries…and freedom, too. If the palace had sometimes felt as though it constrained her, at the same time it had opened up her life to such vistas as she had never dreamed of in her stepmother's house.

Her new life had not been perfect. It had not always been particularly pleasant, sometimes quite the reverse; but if her fairy godmother were to appear before her and ask her if she wished to live it all again, or erase the entire experience and return to being a maid of her step family then Cinderella would cry out: for God's sake, let me do it all again!

 _Let me be bullied by Theodora, let me be betrayed by Serena, let me be poisoned by Grace, let me be assailed by Lucien and disappointed by Eugene; just let me know Eugene better, and in knowing him better come to better love him; just let me have Angelique and Marinette by my side; just let me have Jean as my indomitable protector; just let me call Philippe my stepson; just let me come to love the King as a second father; just let me call Frederica and Lucrecia 'friend'; just let me help all the people of this country, and seen their generosity in turn. Just let me have the good again, and I will gladly take the bad a second time._

She had changed, without doubt. But she thought and believed that they had been changes for the better.

Just as she hoped and believed that Eugene would see it the same way.

 _He married a beautiful girl with barely a scrap of knowledge in her head, because he wanted me to take him away from his life. Now I am a part of his life, and I can help him to live it better._

 _I hope he agrees it is a change for the better._

She rose to her feet, her skirt rustling as it spread out around her. "Thank you, Duchamp," Cinderella said again. "I should go."

Duchamp curtsied. "I will be here when you return, ma'am."

Cinderella picked up her skirt and glided down the stairs. Angelique and Jean joined her on the first landing below her chambers, bowing and curtsying to her respectively as she came by. She smiled at them, and as she continued down the stairs they fell in behind her, following her as she descended.

At the very bottom of the stairs waited His Majesty the King, dressed in a military uniform that strained against his figure, with a bicorn hat with a white cockade and a row of medals shining on his chest. A large and heavy looking sword, that might or might not have been completely ceremonial, hung from his belt.

Philippe stood beside him, dressed in a white sailor suit with a blue neckerchief and an adorable blue hat, complete with naval badge, resting on his curls. He had a big beaming smile on his face as Cinderella descended the stairs.

"Your Majesty," Cinderella said, curtsying to the King. "I apologise if I kept you waiting."

"Not at all, my dear, you're just in time," His Majesty replied. "You look quite lovely; I have no doubt at all that Eugene will be very pleased to see you."

"I hope so, your majesty."

"You're very pretty, stepmother!"

Cinderella laughed. "Oh, why, thank you very much, Philippe," she said, as she bent down and scooped him up in her arms. "And you look very handsome yourself." She kissed him on both cheeks. "Now, will you be a perfect young gentleman and escort me to my carriage."

Philippe nodded eagerly.

Cinderella laughed again. "Wonderful. Your majesty, shall we go?"

"Yes, I see no reason why not," His Majesty said, as he led the way. Cinderella carried Philippe as she followed behind, with Jean and Angelique following behind her.

The rest of their guards were waiting for them outside the palace: two troops of heavy cavalry from the Maison du Roi, with glittering breastplates and brass helmets crowed with crests of black horsehair. The royal carriage, into which Cinderella climbed with Philippe and His Majesty, was golden, and bore the royal crest of sable ermine on the doors. Jean and Angelique followed into a second coach.

The procession drove with the clatter of wheels upon the stone out of the palace and through the streets of the city decked out in celebration: streets strewn with bunting and banners; windows from which the Armorican flag hung in triumph; women already laying out cakes and pies and lemonade to offer to the gallant sons of Armorique once they returned; crowds gathered to cheer the heroes home. They cheered for the King as well, even as they made way for the royal procession to pass them by; they cheered for him, but His Majesty did not acknowledge it.

"Aren't you going to wave to them, your majesty?" Cinderella asked, as she watched the King lean back against his seat. "They're cheering you."

The King shook his head. "You answer them, Cinderella. They cheer for you."

Cinderella frowned at that, but nevertheless she leaned forward so that she could be seen, and gave a little wave of her hand as the carriage drove on.

The roar of the crowd was redoubled in its intensity, and people cried out her name as she went past.

Cinderella…she couldn't deny that it warmed her heart to hear them cheer for her, but at the same time…it made her feel a little uneasy too. She glanced at His majesty, but his expression showed no jealousy, nor any kind of sense that she was stealing the glory that rightly belonged to him.

"I have been King of Armorique for many years," he said. "When I was young they cheered my name; now I am old they cheer for you, and for my son I hope once he returns."

"I'm sure they'll give him a hero's welcome, your majesty," Cinderella said. "Or else why is everyone here?" They were here for the prince who had brought them victory, and preserved the honour of Armorique; they were here for Eugene, and all his gallant soldiers too. How could they not celebrate him and his achievements in the colonies?

 _His achievements…won at what cost?_

Cinderella's sudden disquiet must have shown upon her face, for the King asked her, "Is something wrong, my dear?"

Cinderella shook her head. "I just…your majesty, do you think it was worth it? Eugene won the war, but…people have died, men have been wounded…I was too ill to tend to the wounded as I would have liked, but what I saw…was it worth it?"

His Majesty was silent for a moment. "I hope so, for if not it will be on my conscience. Perhaps if I had been more willing to compromise, if I had had the imagination to propose the peace that Eugene has now achieve, the fighting could have been avoided…but I did not…"

"I'm sure you did the best you could, Your Majesty," Cinderella said. "I…I didn't mean to blame you, I-"

"I know," he said. "It is as I told you, Cinderella; we princes can only do what seems best to us, according to our lights. Were we wholly in the right? I cannot say for sure, but if we had not fought then I guarantee that we would have found more enemies pressing against us, probing our weakness: Normandie, Albion, others from further afield. Be mindful of the cost of drawing the sword, but also be aware that by refusing to draw you do not prevent others from drawing on you."

Cinderella nodded once. "I'll try and remember that, your majesty." She would try and remember, she wouldn't lie to his majesty. And yet, at the same time, when she thought about everyone who had gone off to war, and all those who had waited for them with anxious hearts…she very much hoped that it had been worth it.

She turned to Philippe, and looked down upon him. "Would you like to wave to the people with me?"

Philippe's face lit up. "Could I?"

"Of course," Cinderella said. "Come on, up on my lap." She placed the boy upon her lap, smoothing out her dress to accommodate him, and together they waved out the window as the carriage bore them in royal state down to the docks.

Everyone was there: not only Cinderella and His Majesty and Philippe, not only Jean and Angelique, but everyone: Princess Frederica was there, grinning at Cinderella as she dismounted from the royal coach; Marinette and Lucrecia, holding onto one another as they waited; even Augustina was here, having returned from her country seat to welcome home her father.

And beyond them, a great crowd was gathered at the docks, the great and good of Armorique; the mothers and fathers of those boys who had sailed off to war; the wives and sweethearts of the valiant men who had gone forth to battle; the brothers and sisters, the sons and daughters, all gathered to bid the army 'welcome home'.

Some tall ships were already anchored on the dock, and more were coming in, or anchoring just offshore to wait their turn. Cinderella didn't know which ship was Eugene's vessel, it would have some sort of flag but – though she knew much more about such things than she had once – Cinderella didn't know what flag to look for. She hoped that she would be able to tell from His Majesty which ship Eugene was on.

"Where is Papa?" Philippe asked.

"He'll be here soon," Cinderella said, and hoped that it was true.

Even now, men were disembarking from the tall ships: soldiers and sailors, officers and men, in their uniforms or else in their dirty deck clothes. They walked down the planks and marched onto the pier to the cheers of the crowd. Sometimes their loved ones rushed forward to embrace them, sometimes they waited for those they loved so well to come to them. Stout-voiced petty officers kept the lines moving, kept the docks clear, kept their being room for more people to come ashore.

More and more men kept disembarking. Augustina ran to her father with a cry of 'Daddy!' as General du Bois ventured forth onto dry land. As the old general embraced his daughter, Cinderella almost thought he had tears in his eyes.

Etienne Gerard come off, leading his horse. He must have spied Lucrecia or Marinette in the crowd, because he waved to one of them, and made a beeline for them as soon as she was off the ship. He kissed his sister on the cheeks, and kissed his fiancée first upon the hand and then full on the lips; she melted into his arms as though neither of them cared who was watching.

 _I wish you both every happiness._ Cinderella, for whom sewing had been an occupation enforced by her stepmother that had turned into a hobby that had then turned into an art that she had somewhat neglected lately, had prevailed upon Lucrecia to let her – Cinderella, that is – produce her wedding dress, on the grounds that the bride shouldn't have to stitch her own dress for her own wedding. It would be her wedding gift to the happy couple; but she planned to produce a few practice gowns first to make sure that her skills hadn't atrophied completely.

She watched until they stopped kissing, and looked away just as Jean went over to shake the general's hand and, presumably, congratulate him. Cinderella returned her gaze to the ships in the bay, and watched all along the dockside for the appearance of Eugene.

And then, there as the press of men disembarking from the ships began to ease off, there he was. There was Eugene, dressed in his cream-coloured uniform, the jacket with the red trousers that he had been wearing on the night…on the night they met.

 _Oh, Eugene._

Cinderella was barely aware that she had set Philippe down upon the ground next to his grandfather. She didn't explain why she had put him down. She only knew that she was running, running across a dockside that was suddenly empty of everyone but her, her and Eugene.

Cinderella ran towards him with her skirt hitched up and her petticoats flying around her, she ran towards him and he ran towards her, they ran towards one another and there, there on the dock with the sun behind them, they embraced.

He held her so close. He held her so close it was as though he was afraid she would run away from him if he so much as loosened his grip.

Cinderella knew he felt that way, because she felt it too. That was why she, too, was holding on tight.

"Cinderella," he murmured.

"Eugene."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so, so sorry. I'm so sorry for everything."

"Don't be," she whispered into his ear. "I'm fine. I'm fine, and you're home and that's all that matters."

"Everything you've been through, everything you've done," he said. "I promise, I'll never leave you alone again as long as I live."

Cinderella smiled. "You shouldn't make promises that you can't keep. I might just try and hold you to them anyway."

"I don't care," Eugene said. "You can hold me to this promise, I don't care. I mean it. I'm never going to leave you, never again."

Cinderella sighed. "I've missed you," she said. "I've missed you so much. Every time…every day, I missed you."

"I missed you, too," he said. He stepped back from her, just a step, and cupped her cheek with one hand. "I swear, you're even more beautiful than I remember."

Cinderella's smile widened. "And you are even more handsome than when we met."

"It's victory," he said lightly. "Heroism makes me seem taller."

Cinderella chuckled.

"You may laugh," he said. "But I'll wager it's the same thing making you glow."

"Victory?"

Eugene nodded. "You've won, I hear."

Cinderella shook her head. "No, it's not victory that's making me glow in your eyes. It's you."

Eugene didn't say anything to that, instead he said, "When Etienne told me what had happened, when I got your letter…I didn't believe it. I never imagined that. I'm so sorry but at the same time…I'm so proud of you, Cinderella. You've been so strong. Stronger than I thought you could be. Can you forgive me for that, for underestimating you?"

Cinderella laughed. "How can I not? I underestimated me too."

And then Eugene laughed too, and he kissed her, and it was such a wonderful kiss that Cinderella didn't want it to end and, just like Lucrecia and Etienne, she didn't care who was looking as she put her arms around his neck and Eugene embraced her about the waist and then-

"Papa! Papa!" Of course the kiss had to end, and the catalyst to it's ending was Philippe. Eugene kissed his son, and spun him around in the air as the child yelled with glee, and then Eugene knelt before his father and received his blessing.

Frederica approached softly, shyly, and curtsied before the royal party of Armorique.

"I just wished to congratulate you, Prince Eugene, upon a successful prosecution of your war," she said. "And upon a successful venture with Normandie. May it be the first of many acts of cooperation between our proud nations."

"May it be so," Eugene said. "Princess Frederica…I owe you…I owe Normandie a great debt of gratitude for the services that it has rendered to us in this war. But more than that I owe you a personal apology; I behaved towards you in a manner that you did not deserve. Not at all."

Frederica chuckled. "No apology is required, Prince Eugene; only a promise for your future conduct."

"A promise?"

Frederica leaned forwards. "Take good care of your wife, sir," she said, in a theatrical whisper. "She is a rare treasure, and should be treated as a thing most precious."

"I am well aware of how precious Cinderella is," Eugene replied. "And I will treat her in that vein in future, I guarantee it."

Cinderella covered her mouth demurely with one hand and giggled at the two of them, talking about her as though she wasn't there to hear.

Eugene turned to her again. "Shall we go home, darling?"

Cinderella embraced his arm and leaned against his side. "Yes. Let's go home."

They returned to the palace, not alone but as part of a grand military procession. The drums beat, and fifes played, the brass band led the march as the returning heroes of Armorique made their way up from the harbour. And Cinderella and Eugene, and all their friends, all those whom Cinderella loved and who loved her well in return, they were all in the centre of it, amidst the grenadiers and cuirassiers, in the middle of the voltiguers and fusiliers as they marched beneath their proud and victorious standards through the capital of Armorique and all of Armorique rejoiced in their return.

And, as Cinderella held Eugene close, so close that one might have thought him a prisoner, no heart rejoiced more than hers.

They arrived at the palace to begin a grand ball, a celebratory ball in honour of the great victory, and there they danced under the gleaming chandeliers. Cinderella let Eugene get away from her for a moment to dance with Princess Frederica, while she in turn stole Etienne Gerard away from Lucrecia for a single dance. She shared a dance with Jean, and another with Princess Frederica herself and she didn't care who looked at them as though it was strange. But then, and for the entire rest of the night, she stayed with Eugene, feeling his hand upon her waist, feeling the way that he held her, seeing the way that he looked at her. Rejoicing in him being here, being back with her, being returned at last.

Her husband was home. Her husband was home and he would never leave her again.

At a ball, Cinderella had found true love. In a marriage she had found trust and growing confidence. In a palace she had found friends and enemies, a stepson and a father-in-law, triumph and setback, support and opposition.

She had found those she loved, and who loved her in return. Her enemies were gone now, and only friends and family remained; those with whom she could share life's future triumphs, and with whose help she could overcome the inevitable tears that would come in future.

In this place, in this moment, with these people, with Eugene and all the rest but especially Eugene, Cinderella was happy.

It was not 'Happily Ever After'; but it was 'All Was Well'.

For now.

The End

* * *

 _Author's Note: Yes, this is it. Well, sort of._

 _There will be a sequel to this, at least. There will not, however, be a sequel right away, mostly because I only have a couple of vague ideas of things that will happen in said sequel and so I need a little time to plan. There's also the fact that I have a couple of other fics on the go that I have neglected in favour of getting this story done and so it's only fair that I now put any sequel to this on hold while I work on some other stuff._

 _When I started writing this, both when I started this story and when I started the story that I rebooted into The Rose and the Crown, I wasn't sure if I could do it. I'd never written a story that wasn't some kind of action story, and I specifically wanted to see if I could write a story where the heroine wasn't a warrior or someone who could throw her enemies around with magic or anything like that. I wasn't sure if I could._

 _I didn't succeed in writing a story with no action at all, but I think I succeeded in writing a story where it isn't the main driver of the plot. In fact one of the reasons Jean is a much more minor character compared to Angelique is that, as the action guy, there just isn't very much for him to do compared to her more varied skillset._

 _That's also why the climax turned out the way it did. I had a lot of different ideas for how Serena would be defeated, and a lot of them involved some form of Jean or Angelique rescuing Cinderella (the reason why Grace and Serena's bodyguards were introduced was so they could be fought); but I just didn't like the idea of Cinderella being upstaged in the climax of her own story, so I delegated the rescue to 'the people' so that it seemed like more of a consequence of her actions, not something that just happened to her._

 _The other reason I wrote this story was because I wanted to read it. Cinderella continuation fics are not super rare, but they aren't super common either, and the best one just stops on a cliffhanger if I remember rightly. And then…there is a slightly regressive trend among a lot of fairytale continuations (and I'm not just talking fanfic here), especially fairy tales that have received Disney adaptations, to act as though there is a binary between happily ever after and 'life is pain' with nothing in between: the prince is a douche, life as a princess is horrible, you were better off as a slave of your stepfamily/stuck in a provincial village where nobody understood you etc. It might be hypocritical of me to complain about that given the amount of misery I piled upon Cinderella's head and the amount of angst that I gave her, but I hope that I avoided any undercurrent of 'know your place, you filthy pleb', because that was what I specifically wanted to avoid._

 _But, ultimately, the only people who can say whether or not the story worked are you, the readers. Some of you seem to have enjoyed it. I want to thank everyone who reviewed, and especially the people who took the time to leave detailed reviews, they were a great help both in knowing what resonated with the audience and in motivating me to keep going all the way to the end._

 _I hope you'll come back for the sequel when it arrives._

 _Thank you,_

 _Scipio Smith._


	44. Sequel: The Realm's Delight

The first chapter of the sequel to this story, The Rose and the Crown: The Realm's Delight, has now been uploaded. Please check it out. Thank you.


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